No End In Sight
by SubwayWolf
Summary: Dallas runs away after Johnny's death, and it's up to the gang and the Shepard brothers to find them. SLASH! Don't like? DON'T READ! Nothing explicit, however. 12 chapters long.
1. Chapter 1

**NO END IN SIGHT**

**So this is the first chapter of a huge story I've written, and I love the damn thing. An important note: Dallas didn't die. Instead, he ran away.**

** Dally: Sounds good to me! What about Johnnycake?  
Me: He's…uh…yeah, I just thought that…uh…  
Dally: You killed him, didn't you?****  
Me: No…I didn't…I mean, I guess I kind of did, but…  
Dally: You little… [calls me every swear word he can think of]**

** That's all the info I'm gonna give you. BTW, I switch points-of-view at random, since I find it near impossible to write in third-person. I can't have Dally's POV (even though I love him so) so sorry about that. There's some slash in here, but no lemons. I'm not skilled enough for that stuff. So don't worry.**

** -Subway**

**

* * *

TWO-BIT'S POV**

While Steve and I walked to the Curtis house, we kicked rocks. The air was bitterly cold and we were huddled in our jackets to prevent hypothermia. We were both hurting pretty badly: physically from the rumble, and emotionally from Johnny's death. Dallas had run off as soon as Johnny died, and we assumed that he wasn't going to come back for a long while.

Steve and I promised to talk about it as little as possible around Ponyboy, as he was feeling the worst out of all of us. Johnny was his best friend, and we needed to be there for him. I knew that I wouldn't be cracking any jokes for a while.

Keeping away from the subject about Johnnycake, Steve kept complaining about his tooth. "I can't believe I freaking got it knocked out," he whined. "I'm gonna have to have it capped and that's gonna cost weeks of working at the DX. Evie thinks I look like a total hick, like the ones down in Texas state."

I looked at him funny, and suddenly needed to know something. "Why do you go out with that broad, anyways? She treats you like dog shit. She knows less than a doorknob about cars. You don't seem to like her very much either."

He looked down at his feet. "Your right. I don't." He paused. "You know, we hardly even have sex anymore. I can't even remember the last time. But I can promise you, it probably wasn't that good."

Though it didn't really matter to me, I decided now was the time to tell him what happened. "You know what, Steve? I saw her all over one of the guys from Tim Shepard's outfit just two nights ago, a scrawny little blonde kid. Not really that cute, either. In fact, I saw the two of them coming out of one of the back rooms, if you catch my drift."

"God damn!" he shouted furiously. "That's the last time! Me and her are _through__!_" His teeth were clenched and he was making fists. I did the first thing that came to mind: grab a cigarette. Steve and I weren't the smokers of the gang, but I always kept a few in my back pocket just in case we needed some cooling down. And Steve really needed to cool down. "Thanks," he said, using the lighter I handed him as well.

I could have had one but I wasn't in the mood. I was upset because A) I got almost no sleep last night, for my sister picked the best day to have her friends over for a sleepover, and B) Dallas Winston, who could have come across Texas by now, had my blade. It was unusual, but I was in a pretty terrible mood. The rest of the walk was relatively quiet.

When we arrived at the Curtis house, we were greeted by the sound of screaming: another fight between Darry and Pony. I took a long, deep breath, in absolutely no mood to have this going on with them again. So I just ignored it and went to get some breakfast.

**STEVE'S POV**

When we got inside, Two-Bit went straight to the kitchen. Soda, eating cake from the couch, took one look up at me broke out in a huge smile. He set the half-eaten cake down and stood up and walked over to me. I didn't even think about wasting the alone time I had with him, and, obviously, neither did he. He threw his arms around my neck and kissed me, tongue and all. I was smiling in the middle of it. I just couldn't help myself.

We broke apart, but I was still holding onto him he smiled up at me. His eyes were tired, but sparkling. "It's more fun to kiss you without the tooth." He unbuttoned my shirt, and I thought, 'oh, not now, not here, the gang is in the kitchen, they could probably see us,' but all he did was look at the bandages around my ribs and laugh, "Them Socies got you pretty good, huh?"

"Look who's talking, babe." I smiled at him, and then kissed him again. I listened as the argument in the kitchen got louder and louder, but I paid no attention to it. The kiss between me and Soda was getting even more heated, to the point where I was so caught up into it that I could barely breathe.

Soda was much better of a kisser than Tim was. Of course, Tim didn't love me; he just got me drunk and fucked me whenever he pleased. I wanted it to stop – I loved Soda, not Mr. Shepard – but I guess I couldn't help it. For some reason, lately, I've had to get off more and more often. And since the only thing Soda gave me was kisses, I had Tim to fulfill my fixation. He was good at it, too.

But did I _want_ the kind of relationship I had with Tim? No. I wanted love, as corny as that seems. Soda could give me the love but I was really afraid to take it to the next level. And there were lots of reasons for that. One was that Tim would get insanely pissed off. I knew Tim wouldn't admit it to save his life, but in his eyes every time he looks at me there's this glow about him. I think he's starting to have feelings for me outside of the 'fuckbuddies' thing we have going on. Another reason is that I don't trust Soda enough. I feel that he's going to get caught up with the girls again and leave me in the dust with nobody. It really hurts me to say that. Soda's been my buddy since the second grade. But it's things like that where I can't seem to read him.

I stopped thinking about it and focused on the kissing. I just noticed that Soda's fingers were up to my head, twirling my hair. I pretended not to care, even though I just combed it. This arousing game of tonsil hockey was, literally, taking my breath away. Heaven couldn't describe it.

**TIM'S POV **

"Hey, Tim?" my younger brother called out from behind me. I was walking faster than him and regretted it, because I really wanted company. I was freezing. "Where are we going _now_?" It was relatively early in the morning, and Curly was already starting to get on my nerves. He just got out of jail this morning, too, so I let him off of school. I guess it didn't really matter since he was probably going to retake the year next year anyway.

I sped up my pace, wanting to get to Winston's house faster. "Does it _really_ matter, Curly?" I brushed my black hair out of my eyes and realized I didn't grease it. I probably looked like an idiot. If I didn't have my leather jacket on, I probably would have looked like a total Soc. To top it all off, I had a headache, and my nose hurt from last night, where I broke it for the third time this year. Looking for Dallas, I've tried Buck Merrill's place already and Dally wasn't there. I had two more stops. I could tell today was setting out to be a long-ass day.

There was a pause, and then my brother said, "Yeah, it kind of does. If I'm going somewhere in this weather, I kind of want to know where I'm going. So…uh…where _are_ we going?"

"Shut up, Curly."

Of course, he obliged.

The Winston household was as barren as always. But that didn't mean Dallas wasn't inside. I walked up to the front door and Curly stood behind me and to the right. I knocked on the door. "Hey, Winston! You there?"

There was a long while of silence before the door flung open. Thankful to see Dallas, my heart leapt. But it wasn't Dallas. In Dally's place stood a short, blonde-haired man with a scowl on his face and a fire in his eyes. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked in a smoker's voice.

I took a glance at Curly, and he looked scared. I didn't like Curly scared. "Where's Dallas?" I asked the man in the doorway in as firm of a voice as I could possibly manage.

"I don't know. Jail. Or maybe he's dead. Why in the good Lord's name would I care?" I knew from what the man said that this was Dally's dad. Dally never liked his dad, and I could see why. I didn't like him much either.

I started to walk away, and Curly followed behind me. But I had a weird feeling creep up inside of me, and I took off running to the Curtis house. Curly kept pace right beside me and on the inside I glowed with pride. My little brother was as fast as I was, and that was saying a lot. On the outside, I kept my head straight and continued running.

I hoped that Dallas was at the Curtis house since he wasn't at his own or at Buck's. I heard from Steve that Winston took off running right after the little black-headed kid from their gang died. The fact kind of set me off. I mean, I know how important a member of your own outfit is supposed to mean to you, but just to take off like that? Dallas has seen people murdered in New York. It really surprised me that he couldn't handle the heat of that kid dying. It actually made me a bit angry.

When Curly and I got to the Curtis household, I wasted no time getting my point across. Into the house, I yelled, "Hey, is Dallas…" my voice got caught in my throat. I looked through the door and found Steve and the middle Curtis brother (Pepsi, I think his name was) and they were kissing like there was no tomorrow.

Hot flames of anger immediately ignited inside of me and I swear to god, I could have run into the house and killed Steve right there. But I didn't. I felt like every ounce of energy was just sucked out of me. My heart ached. I was in somewhat of a daze. I didn't know what it was that I was feeling, but I didn't like it one bit. I just stood there, watching as Soda brought his hands up to Steve's beautiful hair, the hair I used as a pressure reliever as Randle's muscles tightened around my length, the same beautiful hair that I could smell on my clothes long after he was gone. Steve is mine…

"Tim, that's Steve…" Curly whispered worriedly, standing next to me and watching as well.

I didn't even look at him. "Shut the fuck up, Curly."

Again, he obliged. He probably wanted me to do something about what was going on. I should have done something about it, just to show Curls that I wasn't weak, that I wasn't going to let a broken heart get in the way of my fighting ability. I should have done _some_thing, _any_thing, but I just couldn't. I couldn't hurt Steve, even though he had just hurt _me_ beyond repair.

I walked away. Speed-walked, more like it. Curly kept up, not saying anything. Something about Curly keeping his mouth shut just made me smile the dumbest smile ever. I looked at him, and with his fiery blue eyes, he looked back with a confused look on his face.

I wrapped his head in a loose choke hold and laughed, "You're a good kid, Curls." I laughed a little more as he looked at me even funnier. And that reaction only made me love him more. Great kid.

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**I hope you liked it. I had to find the book and look for the part about how each Curtis likes their eggs. I suddenly remembered that part while writing the section in Steve's POV, don't ask me why. So I decided to add it. And, even though Darry is my absolute favorite character, I won't be writing in his point of view for a while. That depresses me.****  
Also, this chapter is probably the only one where you'll hear Johnny's name, since I don't like his character. Sorry. But I just had to add that slight bit of PB&J slash in there. It's like a rule almost, just like Soda/Steve slash. I love Soda/Steve slash, because the two are like a match made in heaven.****I'm sorry that Tim gets a little OOC at the end, but that's how I'm going to portray his character in this story: unpredictable. I don't plan on writing in his point of view much in the story, though.  
Next chapter gets into the plot a little more, I promise.**

** Reviews = Love! Tell me if you've ever read/written Steve/Tim slash before. I think I'm the first to make it! Yay for me!**

** -Subway **


	2. Chapter 2

**Next chapter! I'm happy to write out of Curly's point of view (he may get OOC, and I apologize for that) because he is my favorite character. Oh, and I just realized that Curly's supposed to be in jail during this time. But, I live by a tip out of the movie "Thank You For Smoking." **

**Rob Lowe****:**** Sony has a futuristic sci-fi movie they're looking to make.  
****Aaron Eckhart****: Cigarettes in space? But wouldn't they blow up the oxygen environment?  
****Lowe****: Probably. But it's an easy fix. One line of dialogue. 'Thank God we invented the... you know, whatever device.'**

**So there we go. A one-line fix for Curly Shepard's time in the reformatory. Check it out and see if you recognize it.**

**Dally:**** I hated that movie. "Thank You For Smoking."****  
Me:**** How did you see that movie? You're a fictional character from the 1960's! That movie came out just a few years ago.****  
Dally:**** I have my ways.****  
Me:**** Well, I thought it was pretty good…what didn't you like about it?****  
Dally:**** I **_**hated**_** Rob Lowe's part. He's so pretty, so he gets all the roles, that little…[calls Mr. Lowe bad names I'm unable to repeat] Personally, I think Matt Dillon is a much better actor than him.****  
Me:**** Of course you do. **

**-Subway **

**

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CURLY'S POV**

I was lying on my bed with my hands crossed behind my head, just thinking about the day so far. Tim had been in his room ever since we came home this morning. Hell, so have I, since Tim let me off of school. Angela wasn't home so I really didn't have anyone to talk to. What am I saying? Since when do I talk to Angela?

Anyway, I just thought about what happened. Tim and I running around town looking for Dallas Winston. I couldn't be running around town this early in the morning. With luck, the fuzz would suspect me of doing something wrong and throw me in jail again. So much for 'getting off with good behavior.' Anyways, why did Tim care so much about Dallas? I mean, I know they've been buddies for a while, but Tim never really talks about him like he would Steve or anybody in our gang. And if he did talk about Winston, he'd just complain about how much of a dirtbag the guy is. I've never really asked why Tim would be saying those things, because I tend to keep my mouth shut while Tim's on his rants about people.

Another thing I was confused about today, is what was the whole deal with Steve and Soda? It confused me. Well, not the situation in general: Tim's gotten cheated on tons of times before. We all have. But what was weird to me was Tim's reaction to it. He didn't do anything. I could still see him going in there and beating the shit out of Randle, and it still bugged me that he didn't.

Last but not least, another thing that was weird to me, was that mini hug type deal Tim gave me while we went home. He's never touched me like that before. He's never told me "Curly, you're a good kid" or even smiled at me out of…well…love, I think it was. You take a look at a guy like Tim and you can automatically tell that he don't love anyone. He had it etched into his eyes. Tim's always told me that relationships are huge weaknesses. That's why we never pay special attention to a certain member of the gang if he's hurt. Or at least that's what I've learned. I've learned a lot from Tim, and even though he was my brother, I thought of him like a dad, since our stepdad treated us like shit. I liked Tim, in a weird way. He was intimidating and tough but I knew he was an okay guy and he looked out for me and Angela.

And then, for some reason, I started to think about Ponyboy. I didn't know why I thought of him, but he just popped into my mind. His eyes especially. I loved that touch of grey in his green eyes. I wished that my eyes were like his. My eyes were this smoldering blue color, just like Tim's were, and that's what bothered me. But Curtis's…they were just perfect.

I didn't know what time it was, but the light coming out of my window was tinted pink, so it had to be getting late. I only sat there for a few moments after realizing this when my door burst open.

Tim. "We're going to The Dingo," he said quickly, with his jacket already on and his hair greased. "I got a call. Hurry."

He was gone before I could say anything to him. I wasn't going to say anything anyways. I just got my jacket on and left.

**PONYBOY'S POV**

We were all at The Dingo. It was close to ten, and really weird, because Two-Bit, Darry, Soda, Steve, and I were someof the only people here except for a group of guys playing poker. Even the band was in for the night. But I didn't expect much business on a Thursday.

Darry ordered us all a beer. We all needed one, since all that's happened over the past couple of days. "A round, please?" Darry asked in a half-tired, half-annoyed kind of voice.

The bartender, a red-headed, skinny-as-a-stick, droopy-eyed man, came over to us and looked us all over, one by one. His eyes locked when he came across me. "Is he old enough?"

"No, he's not," Darry said, looking the man in the eyes. He put on his best "I don't care" voice. After studying Darry, The bartender turned around and filled five tall glasses. I guess Darry could get away with stuff like that with his size.

When we got the drinks, we each took them differently. Two-Bit took it and took a huge gulp as if he hadn't had anything to drink in weeks. Soda took it, stared at it for a little bit, and then took a small sip. I knew he didn't like to drink that much. He didn't like the taste. Steve took it and took a huge mouthful and kept it in his mouth for a while before swallowing it. Darry drank his beer like he drinks his coffee: slow, but huge sips. He didn't drink much either but he probably needed it as much as Dally probably did right now, wherever he was.

I took a whiff of the cold liquid and then grasped it in my fingers, then took a sip. Disgusting. I never liked the taste of beer, but I just had this sudden need to drink one. I quickly took another sip, hoping I'd be used to it now. I made sure it was a small one, and then I let it swish around in my mouth for a bit, the bitter taste and acidy feel lingering around in my mouth for a bit longer than I wanted it to. I really couldn't see why Two-Bit loved this stuff so much.

I rose my glass to take another sip, but I heard the loud whacking sound of the door bursting open behind me. It startled me, so I turned around to see what happened.

It was the Shepard brothers. "Guys!" Tim said like we were all in the same gang or something. He was terribly out of breath. "Guess what I just heard!" He didn't give us time to reply. "It's Dally," he said, talking to nobody in particular, and then breathing some more. He seemed awfully winded.

My eyes widened and I remembered the letter and the switchblade that came with it. Johnny said he wanted me to protect myself. I could still smell Bob's blood on the six-inch blade, but I kept telling myself that it was my imagination. It made my heart ache to think about the fact that Johnny was still looking out for me, even after his death. It makes me think that he loves me back. And he had one request for me: _Tell Dally, I don't think he knows._ "Dally… _Winston_?" I asked quickly, even though I didn't know any other Dally's in my life.

Tim nodded, his hand on his chest. He took Two-Bit's beer straight from his hand and took a huge swig of it.

"What about him?" I said even quicker. I hoped the news Tim was about to provide wasn't about Dallas's death, because that would make this week the worst in the world.

Curly now spoke, looking me straight in the eyes, "Tim got a call from Buck. Buck says his buddies saw Dally bar hopping upstate in Kansas, and Dally said he was heading to Topeka."

"He's not dead," I said, not really expecting it to be out loud. My face got all warm with anticipation. "Dally's running away? To Kansas?"

Tim shrugged. "I guess so." He took another long sip of beer. Two-Bit couldn't yell at him because he was too astonished.

"We gotta go find him," I pleaded. "We…gotta." I was getting a little antsy. "Who knows if he'll come back? He has nothing to take care of anymore, you know? He might go back to New York and get in more trouble, and…" I didn't want to consider the outcome. "We need to go and find him."

Steve's eyes got excited. "Man, that would be the coolest! Us buddies traveling across the country on an endless journey to find the long-lost friend!" Steve was smiling.

"Yeah!" Soda high-fived Steve. "That would be so awesome!"

"It could be made into like…a _book_ or something," exclaimed Two-Bit, as he high-fives the other two boys as well.

"Hold it," commanded Darry. "You think you're just going to trot on over to Kansas and look for Dallas Winston? It's not going to happen! It's a big place, one of you could get lost, or you could get hurt, or one of y'all could-"

"Darry," I cut him off, and he looked at me, surprised. I've never spoken up when he was talking to us on one of his safety tirades. "Darry, I gotta see Dally. It's real important to me. You can come with…keep an eye on us." I paused. "Please?" I looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, Darry!" cried Steve, Soda, and Two-Bit in unison. "Please?"

Darry looked at me, looked at the gang, and then back at me. I could tell he was in deep thought. He sighed. "We're going to have to talk to Buck first," he said softly, and then Steve, Two-Bit, and Sodapop jumped up and cheered.

I couldn't help it. I wrapped my arms around Darry. "Aw, Darry, you're the best!" I exclaimed, emotions getting the better of me. I could feel Darry stiffen in surprise, but then he hugged me back. As loose as it felt, it was still a hug.

"Oh, Ponyyyyy!" I heard from behind me, and it was Soda. He sung, "We're going to Kansas! We're going to Kansas!" The other boys chanted along with him, and I couldn't help but to join in as well. I got up from my seat and went to join their group hug. We jumped around and laughed and smiled.

Darry took a swig of beer and smiled to himself. Two-Bit spun me around. Sodapop and Steve were still amazed that there was actually another state outside of Oklahoma. Tim and Curly were talking to each other about something I couldn't hear. And me? I was just happy Dallas Winston was still alive.

**TWO-BIT'S POV**

"Hey, Darry?" Pony called out to his brother as he read the morning paper. "Can I…uh…talk to you?" I was sitting at the table as well. Darry took out the comics for me and I read them blissfully.  
Darry snuck a peek at him from the newspaper. "Sure. What's up?" Pony sat down next to me and across from Darry. Darry closed the paper and put it down.

Pony had his fingers intertwined with each other. "Well, I was wondering if Curly and Tim could come on the trip with us." I looked up at Darry and could tell he was about to say no, but Pony continued quickly, "I know you think they're dumb hoods and could get us in a lot of trouble but with how far we're going I think we could use them. And they're really good friends of Dally's. Dally might not listen to Steve or Soda or even you and just keep running away. But he'll listen to Tim and Curly. I know it." He paused. "I already talked it out with Tim. And Tim said that if he goes, Curly will come, too." Another pause. "Please, Darry?" He looked like a little puppy.  
Darry and I looked at him for a few more moments, considering the entire situation. When Darry looked at me, I shrugged, not wanting to make a decision for Mr. Curtis, because it would probably end up being the wrong one. Ponyboy _did_ have a valid point, however. Darry asked, "How are we all gonna fit in the truck?"

Ponyboy smiled hugely. "That means yes, doesn't it?"

Surprisingly, Darry replied with, "Yes, it does. But again, Pony, what are we gonna use so we can all drive in the truck? We can't all go if we don't fit."

But Pony couldn't answer. Our conversation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of Soda and Steve's voices rising. They were in some sort of argument. Pony, Darry, and I followed each other out the door and watched them fight.

"I could care less about your schedule," shouted Soda, "If you're not going to take care of the garage, you should be in school, not out with…_Tim!_" he looked sickened by Shepard's name.

"Get outta my business," Steve grabbed Soda by the collar, "Or you know what I'm gonna do?"

Soda looked at him, scared. Steve was bigger than him. I could tell he didn't want to wait around to hear what he'd do. He stood up on his toes and leaned in for a kiss that turned real passionate real quick. Steve moaned and kissed him back, twining his arms around Soda's waist.

My face got warm. My mouth hung open. I would never have guessed…

"What's going on?" Pony yelled. He was obviously totally baffled about what was happening. I didn't think he even knew what "gay" meant. Instinctively, I covered Pony's eyes with my hands.

Soda groaned in reply to the frightened Pony's question, only breaking apart after he realized that we were aware of him and Steve's relationship, and it was all his fault.  
Pony frowned, completely confused. "Does this mean…that Steve's a lady?"

"Ponyboy, we have to go to the store," I said quickly, not wanting to get involved, and glancing worriedly at Soda. "C'mon, kid, I'll take you…"  
I took my hands off Pony's eyes and then spun him around towards the door. I exited the house with a pain in my throat that I couldn't swallow. Soda was going to be put through hell.

* * *

**So that's all I've got today. I think I'll start he next chapter out of Curly's point of view. Or maybe Two-Bit's. I don't know. Anyways, next chapter is the one where they set off for Topeka. And I think I'll finally put a part in Soda's POV. Maybe not.**

**Which characters have a switchblade? I gave Ponyboy Johnny's blade, and Two-Bit has one but Dally has it. Does anyone else have a blade?**

**-Subway**


	3. Chapter 3

**So…here we are. Another chapter. This is where they set out on the trip to find Mr. Winston. Here you go!**

**Dally:**** Wait, that's it?****  
Me:**** Huh?****  
Dally****: Aren't you going to talk to me?****  
Me:**** I'm sending out the characters to do that for me. Oh, and, by the way…where in the world are you?****  
Dally****: [whispers location]****  
Me****: [rolls eyes] If you were in my mom's pants, I think my dad would have noticed. And then beat the sh*t out of you.****  
Dally****: [laughs hysterically]**

**-Subway****

* * *

PONYBOY'S POV**

I walked into my house with only one thing on my mind: Sodapop is dead. Heis on the floor of the kitchen, beat to a pulp, was running away, and he had to have come across Texas by now. And Darry was in some sort of depression\rampage state that he couldn't get out of, and he was in the fetal position on the ground, in the corner of his bedroom.

I opened the door slowly, cautiously, and then peeked my head in. I was overall confused about the whole situation between Steve and Soda. I just figured Soda and I would talk about it when I got home. I was dealing with enough in my life, and now he had to have this? It gave me a headache.

I didn't see anybody inside until I heard "Hey, Pony," from the kitchen. Darry. Making dinner. I was confused by how normal this seemed. Was this a sign of him going crazy?

"Hi, Darry…," I frowned subtly. "Where's…uh…Sodapop?"

"Work," Darry said, not really caring. "Steve went with him."

"You're…not _upset_?" I asked.

He turned to look at me. As usual, there was nothing in his eyes. "Couldn't care less," he said straightforwardly. "If that's how Soda wants to be, then fine. I don't care. And if you want to talk about it, don't come to me. Because I'm just as weirded out about it as you are, okay? So I'm just not paying attention to it." He was lying, and it was obvious. But I didn't say anything. I hated fights.

Steve and Soda came home at separate times. And if they got within three feet of each other, they'd glare threateningly. I was unsure what their problem was, but I stayed out of it.

We all stayed on the front porch, not talking to each other. Two-Bit arrived, cracked some sort of joke that none of us paid attention to, and then shut up. For once, he could smell the tension in the air. And he knew his humor didn't have the strength to break it. He went inside, using the excuse that he had to go to the bathroom.

Darry was inside, probably getting ready. Steve was lighting up a cigarette, something he only does on occasion when he's angry or nervous. Since it was taking a while and I wanted to get to Topeka as soon as possible, I spoke, "I'm gonna go fetch the Shepard's." I left and immediately regretted it because that meant I just left Steve and Soda alone.

I got to the Shepard residence, and was scared straight from the yelling I heard from the inside. It was girl voices, so I figured Angela and her mom were fighting again. Something made of glass made a shattering noise, and then a bunch of swearing was heard. I just stood there, not wanting to ring the doorbell, for I was afraid I would get caught in the crossfire.

I saw someone coming down the stairs, and it was Curly. He looked over the staircase, took a long look at what was happening in that direction, and then closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed. He sat down on one of the steps. A few moments later, Tim joined him, not even bothering to look at what was going on. It seemed as if they knew better than to interfere. I watched as they just sat there on the steps, waiting for the fight to end. I wondered if they saw me, and suddenly hoped that they didn't. They'd probably be embarrassed out of their minds. Well, Curly would, but maybe not Tim. Tim never let his emotions get the best of him. Nonchalance was his greatest asset, but you never knew what was going on inside his head. That's probably why I didn't like him.

I stepped closer to their torn screen door and waved to them, getting their attention. Curly looked up and his eyes glowed when he saw me. He nudged Tim and then pointed to me. Tim immediately got up and came outside, Curly following close behind.

"Thank god you're here," Tim said with his blue eyes blazing wilder than usual. "I need to go and talk to Buck. I'll meet you guys at Woodward, okay?" Without giving us time to reply, passed by us and went down the sidewalk, leaving Curly and I alone.

"Hi, Curtis," Curly said happily. His fiery blue eyes were locked into mine, looking at me. The look he was giving me startled the life out of me. It was the same type of look that Johnny always used to have when he saw me.

Forgetting the thought, I nodded, and said, "Hi." Something inside of me wanted to make me kick myself. I should have said more. "Are you ready?"

He smiled beautifully. His smile was lion-like, but there was this sweetness about it. Also, he had amazing teeth. Pearly white and perfectly straight. I, again, blinked the thoughts away, but they came back as Curly Shepard's sweet, cowboy kind of voice chimed, "I was born ready." He looked me over and lead me towards the sidewalk. We only took two steps when he challenged "I'll race you" while raising his brow in a Two-Bit kind of way.

I knew I would win, but I accepted his challenge anyways by nodding. "Okay, on three," I declared. "One…two…" I pretended to be interested in something behind him. "That's a weird place to put a piano," I said, acting puzzled. And as Curly turned around to see what I was talking about, I took off running. I got at least two houses away and then I heard him swear loudly from behind me, so I threw my head back laughed out loud.

I reached the house way before he did, and when he caught up, he swore at me again. "That's not fair," he panted, his hands on his hips. He was terribly out of breath. He needed to cut back on smoking. Hell, I did too, but I ran track, so I had lungs of steel.

"I would've beaten you anyways," I taunted. "You know it."

He gave me a playful punch on the shoulder and then laughed shortly before having to catch his breath again. Then the car horn beeped behind us and I heard Darry call out from the Ford, "Come on, guys! There's room in the back."

Oh god, not the Ford. I hate the Ford. It's all rickety and it's been in need of a wash since the day I laid my eyes on it. Besides, it's just flat out ugly. The car was supposed to be white, but from the uncoordinated series of dirt and rust stains, it turned a tint of orange in spots. A while ago, Steve and Soda gave it a dark orange paint job. That made it uglier than ever. Soda and Steve thought it was tuff but Darry and I thought it was disgusting. There was a tarp over the bed of the truck, so it made what was like a tent. Two-Bit and Darry were in the front, with Darry driving. The cover was a good idea, because if we weren't covered, we'd get pulled over by the cops for sure.

Curly cheered and then rushed over to the vehicle. I stood there for a second before following him, telling Darry where to meet Tim in the process. We unzipped the tarp, went under it, and sat in the bed. I sat across from Soda and next to Curly. It was cold outside, but under the tarp, it broke the wind, and the added heat of Curly next to me made it much better.

We drove to Woodward Park, and it was deserted, as usual. Nobody ever came to Woodward Park. It was a small, rundown cluster of trees with four benches; a slide and some jungle gym bars; and a fountain. I remembered the last time I came here, and it was with Johnny. My heart felt like stone as I zoned out the conversations around me and remembered that dreaded night. Darry hitting me, the Socs holding me underwater, and then when I woke up and saw Johnny there with the bloody knife. I remembered Johnny's face. He was so scared. But then I remembered what he looked like once we reached Dally. Of course he was still scared, but there was a light in his eyes. He trusted Dallas with all his heart. And, this was probably the most insane thing I'm ever thought of in my life, but I think Dallas really did love Johnny. And if there was anything I wanted to do, it was get Dallas back here in Tulsa. For Johnny's sake. Thinking about all of this made me get kind of emotional.

But then I heard Curly Shepard's cheerful laugh from beside me and everything seemed to go away. I winced, for that was how Johnny used to make me feel. And I would never, not even to myself admit that I had feelings for Curly. But I was almost certain that I did.

**CURLY'S POV**

Through the unzipped white cover, I saw Tim sitting at one of the benches, smoking. I wasn't as happy to have him come along as I thought I would be. I preferred just hanging out with Pony and his gang rather than have Tim come along and having me act like the tough guy I wasn't. I liked when Tim wasn't around more than I did when I was with him. With Tim, I had to pretend I was smart and dangerous, so nobody would get in our way, because that's how it was supposed to be. It had to be that way, even though I could never understand why.

I liked being around the Curtis brothers and their gang because I didn't have to be on my toes all the time, as Tim always wanted. I got to relax and laugh. And I didn't have to be smart. It made me comfortable, because 'intelligent' is something I'm not. It didn't bother me any. The middle Curtis brother, Sodapop, he dropped out of high school, and it didn't bother him, either. As soon as I found that out about the guy, I liked him immediately. I got pretty comfy around him.

Being around Ponyboy was fun, because he was smart, and taught me stuff sometimes. And he's a tough kid, too. I remember that we used to play chicken by holding the ends of our cigarettes against each other's fingers. We always tried to stay away from Tim during that, because he gets real mad and tell us to stop, but then Curtis and I would yell at each other because one of us had to take the weed away before the other. I liked playing that game because all it took was grit. I had that, and so did Curtis. He was a real good buddy to have, and, since we were in separate gangs, we never got to see each other much, so I was happy to have Tim and I going with him in this trip. But whenever Tim was around, Pony wasn't his usual cool self. He kind of backs down. I think he's scared of my brother. In a way, it made me pretty happy, because he was just fine around me and that meant I wasn't growing up to be as hard as Tim. Don't get me wrong: I absolutely idolized Tim. I nearly worshipped him: he was tough and he could take anything, whether it be our parents calling him a dirty hood, Angela telling him that she hated him, or having a bottle broken over his head. He was like a god. But then there's the opposing side. He wants me to be so much like him, and I love him so much that I end up being that way. We hurt people and get away with it and on the outside, I smile and high-five my brother when the cop cars pass us, but on the inside, I remember Curtis's eyes when he looks at Tim. I would flat out hate it if Pony ever looked at me like that.

I watched as Steve poked his head through the unzipped cover and waved to my brother. "Hey, Shepard! Over here!"

As Tim made his way over to the car, I listened as the biggest Curtis brother, Darrel, thought out loud, "If that bastard smokes in my car, he's dead." I believed him.

Tim stood at the front of the car, and spoke into Two-Bit's open window, "Hey, kids. We're going to find ole Dally now?" Tim questioned, tossing his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

"Yep," Steve said enthusiastically through the tiny window separating the car from the bed of the truck. "Hop in, buddy." I could see the look on Soda's face as Steve spoke this, and he didn't look like he appreciated the fact the Steve was being so nice to my brother.

I saw Tim coming around to the back of the car, and I looked at Pony. He didn't look very excited, and scooted closer to me. I had this impulse to comfort him. "It's okay, I'll protect you," I said to him, smiling. Curtis looked at me with reassured eyes.

Tim slid through the zipper and, of course, sat right next to Pony. We both laughed inwardly with each other, and, thankfully, Tim didn't ask why.

**PONYBOY'S POV**  
Tim sat next to me, so my utter disliking. He didn't even look at me or say hi. He was, for some reason, staring at Soda. There was absolute hatred looming in his blue eyes. That made me kind of angry. Nobody looks at my brother like that. There's no reason to; Soda's never hurt anybody. But what could I do about it? It was Tim Shepard's eyes we were talking about here. I wouldn't argue against that guy if a blade were held to my throat.

We got as far as the stoplight before Tim started gabbing about what we were gonna do. "So, just take 35 all the way up past Wichita, and then take 335 up to Topeka. And then we're gonna drive, and that'll take five hours or so. And I'm thinkin' Dally's at his favorite hangout up there in Topeka. The Seabrook." He seemed more than enthusiastic to talk about it.

"Okay," sighed Darry, "Seabrook it is."

We talked a lot as we drove on the highway. The first couple hundreds of miles was okay but then Soda and Two-Bit got antsy and started throwing random things they found in the car at each other. And, of course, Curly and I were caught in the crossfire, so we got cigarette butts, leftover chips, and god-knows-what-else thrown at us. I yelled at them to stop and they didn't, so I threw my lighter at Two-Bit's head. He dodged it, picked it up from the ground and said "thanks," but they still stopped throwing things.

As Curly and I talked about whatever came to mind, Steve kept complaining that he was cold. It had to be around thirty-five degrees, at best. And there was this draft coming in from the bottom of where the zipper ended, and it was crazy annoying. Steve kept being belligerent about it and Tim, with his usual short fuse, got annoyed. We were about five miles out of Topeka, and Tim just suddenly snapped.

"Damnit, Steve, why don't you shut your trap for once?" he barely even posed it in a question. He just seemed so lazy and careless about it. I found it weird, because Tim and Steve seemed to be friends (or at least most recently, they have) and now Tim was treating him like he does everyone else: dispassionately.

"Huh?" Steve asked, obviously taken aback by Tim's sloppy statement.

Tim looked at him now. "What do you mean, 'huh'? You heard me."

"Don't you talk to me like that!" Steve suddenly burst out. It surprised me, Tim, and everyone else in the car. We all halted our conversations and listened to theirs.

Tim stared at him with narrow eyes. "Oh? It has to be like this? Well, pal, I don't think you should talk to _me_ like that." Good point. I mean, this is Tim Shepard we're talking about here… "Mister 'I'm gonna cheat on my boyfriend with my best friend just because he's pretty'. That guy shouldn't talk to _me_ like that." Tim said mockingly.

"So you're pissed off about that, huh?" Steve said before any of us could absorb the meaning of what Tim just said. "Well if you're so tough maybe you can just suck it up like man and get over it."

"You think I _care_? Well I don't, Randle! _You're_ the one making a big deal out of it! And besides, the whole thing between us wasn't _my_ idea!"

"Yes it was!" Steve half-laughed. "_You_ suggested it!"

"Yeah, but I was drunk! I had a loss of values. Of morals! You couldn't just say 'No, Tim, we can't go upstairs, you should put that drink down and I'll take you home.' You couldn't just say that?"

Steve was at loss for words.

"Well obviously, you _couldn't_ say that!" Tim continued furiously. "You just took complete advantage of me." There was silence throughout the vehicle as it dawned on us what had occurred. Tim and Steve must have had sex at one point. And Tim was _very _upset. This baffled us all. It was so silent you could hear your heart beat. "And then you come back for more, and more, and more. And then what do I find? I find your god damn tongue in this bastard's mouth," he looked at Soda. "Just at the perfect time, too. Right when I began to think that I actually had feelings for you." Tim seemed to get mad at himself after saying that, and I didn't blame him. For once, he wasn't hiding his emotions. Immediately, he corrected himself. "Of course, I was wrong. But that's just not something you do, man. I don't know much, but I know that the last thing you're supposed to do is betray someone you're already in a relationship with. And hell, it may not have been that great of a relationship, but god damn, it was the closest I've ever got. You have no idea how it felt, Steve. You completely screwed me over."

I looked at Soda and he looked bowled over. I hated seeing him like that. I knew that Soda liked Steve a whole lot. I half couldn't blame him: Steve was a cool, smart, cowboy kind of guy. Just Soda's type. And they've been friends for years on top of years. I wanted to tell Soda that it was going to be okay, but I doubted that it was going to turn out that way. I hated seeing Soda sad.

Steve just sat there, visibly uncomfortable, and he looked like he was trying to get smaller or maybe out of the car. Soda was still staring at him, with that look on his face. And suddenly, Steve looked like he got an unexpected flush of confidence. "Well, Tim…maybe I did. But we already ended our relationship. I've found someone else that I love even more and you should be happy for me!" It wasn't until a few seconds later did Soda realize what that meant. He turned a light pink color and then he tried to put on a casual look, but it wasn't working. He was just so happy.

Tim looked at Steve for no less than a second, and then said furiously, "Pull the car over, Darrel." Darry did so, and I wanted to kill Darry for listening. Before the car ever came to a complete stop, Tim unzipped the opening and slid out. He started walking away past the car and towards the city.

Steve got out as well and stood by the car and called out to Tim, "Where the hell do you think you're going?" The rest of us just stared out the car windows, utterly speechless. "Are you stupid?" I winced. Steve knew better than to call Tim stupid. It's just something you do not do.

"You know what, Steve?" Tim scowled, and stuck up both of his middle fingers. _"Fuck_ you!" He looked at Soda, and stuck his middle fingers out towards him. "Fuck your pansy-ass boyfriend." He clenched his fists and put them at his sides. "Fuck Dallas, fuck this fucking trip. I'm walking the rest of the way," he said straightforwardly. And then he turned around, and did just that. We all knew better than to stop him. He'd probably just yell at Steve again. Or kill him.

We all completely silent, watching Tim's silky black hair waving behind him. We watched got smaller and smaller as he got farther away from us and closer to Topeka. It got to the point where we couldn't even see him anymore.

And then Steve got back into the car. Soda, Curly, and I looked at him, but he just stared at his feet. Darry started the car and we continued driving.  
It wasn't until we got into the city did somebody speak. It was Two-Bit. "Um," he broke the silence, "What the hell just happened?"

For a few long moments, nobody answered, but then Steve did. "Nothing. I just told Tim the truth, and he couldn't handle it. No biggie."

Soda was still pink. "And…what is this…'truth'?"

"That I love _you_ more than I love _him_." I could see Steve smiling to himself as he spoke this.

And for the very first time, I saw it. I had to think about it long after I heard Steve say it, but I realized that it was what I saw it was and a smile broke out across my face. Seeing true love for the first time made me look out at the world with new eyes.

* * *

**So. You like it? I love Tim so much, and I want to bring him back, but I don't think that I can do that. For Steve's safety, I can't. **

**Wa****s that legal to go back to Pony's point of view again? ****He just seemed like the perfect person to get those two thirds of the story's point across. But don't think that I like Pony now, because I don't. I'll watch a C. Thomas Howell movie any day, don't get me wrong, but I just hate that character. Sorry, Tommy. **

**-Subway**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ah, a new chapter. I ****love**** new chapters. This one especially, because there's violence! Hooray for violence! Ladies, do you expect much more out of a male writer? **

**Again, I'll take it out of Pony's point of view. And then Two-Bit's. And then Pony's again. I really want to get a Steve or Soda in the mix, but I don't think they'd be the best to tell this chapter. **

**Dally****: Aw, it's okay, nobody really likes Steve or Soda anyways.****  
Me****: Shut up, Dally.****  
Dally****: What! It's true!****  
Me****: [silent treatment]****  
Dally****: Aw, come on, Zack…I'm just putting my two cents in.****  
Two-Bit****: Hey, buddy, that's my job.****  
Dally****: Go away, Two-Bit. Zack…don't be mad. Are you still upset about the comment about your mom? Well, I've never met her, but I bet she's a very nice person.  
Me: [ignoring him]****  
Dally****: You're a stubborn little bastard, aren't you?****  
Me:**** I've learned from the best. **

**-Subway****

* * *

PONYBOY'S POV **

We pulled up to the Seabrook at the peak of midnight. I wasn't sure how Darry found it, but hey, here we were, so I couldn't complain. We took a parking spot and then I realized just how typical of a place this was, with neon lights and trash all over the floor. I could smell was smoke, sweat, and booze. Hank Williams was crooning from a jukebox, and I frowned at the poor taste in music. A couple guys were making out with their girls near the bathroom. Drunks were fighting near the bar, and some others were singing and swinging their mugs of beer this way and that. It wasn't as much run-down as the Dingo, but it came close.

The place was filled to the rim with people. For once, I wished Tim was here. Tim was used to places like this, and if we were to get into any trouble, he'd keep us safe. Of course, Tim wasn't here. But I had Curly, and he was the next best thing.

"We ain't _never_ gonna find Dally in this hellhole," Two-Bit shouted to nobody in particular, barely audible over the hundreds of people. Dally _was_ here though. If we didn't find him, he was going to find us. "So," Two-Bit continued, "We should start at the bar." Typical Two-Bit Mathews.

To everyone's surprise, Darry agreed. "Why not? It's a perfect time for being wasted. After all that during the trip, we deserve it." He was right, too. We all sat down and ordered the same thing. We didn't have any money on us other than the sum strictly for gasoline. I decided not to think about it.

But then the mood changed abruptly.

"Hey!" we heard from behind us. We all turned around to see a lanky blonde guy with a serpentine smile glaring at us. He looked at us but spoke to his group of three friends, "Looks like we got ourselves some more of them Greasers over here!" He had a thick accent, or maybe it was just because he was drunk; I couldn't tell. He looked beat and exhausted, like he was just in a fight. He nudged a short, chubby kid next to him and cracked, "look at their hair," and then the group laughed.

"Just ignore 'em," Darry said smoothly, turning back around. We all did the same, except for Two-Bit. He couldn't help himself.

"Well, I think _my_ hair is tuffer than _yours_." That was Two-Bit's normal act of defense. It was typically either making fun of his opponent or threatening them. He was too cool for violence. "And what's up with _your_ hair? Styled by a bunny rabbit?" I couldn't help it but to crack up. The rest of the gang did, too, Soda's recent sip of beer nearly squirting out his nose.

This upset Mr. Blondie. "Yeah? Well it sounds like someone's looking for a fight here." He tried to look tough, and his visibly fresh black eye and bruised jaw made him appear the part, but, to me, he wasn't too intimidating as he set himself out to be. And if he wasn't scaring me, he wasn't even coming close to scaring Two-Bit.

Two-Bit stood from his chair, and, out of nowhere, so did Curly. They stared down at the blonde, who backed off slightly. Two-Bit was bigger from the blonde, and he had at least 40 pounds and 5 inches on the guy. Curly had this devilish look set into his eyes that reminded me of the way Tim always looked. Curly had some muscles on him, and he was weathered and looked the part. Even though the two Greasers were both excited about the size difference, they kept their cool.

Two-Bit spoke. "Oh, does it look like that? Well you may wanna think twice before taking a Greaser like me on. I brought a few of my buddies." As if Two-Bit pressed a button; Darry, Steve, Soda, and I stood up from our seats and tried to look threatening.

The kid made a motion with his hand and suddenly eight more of his friends appeared from behind him. We were incredibly outnumbered. "What a coincidence," he said. "Well then, I say we have a go at it," he said, stepping forward and staring into Two-Bit's eyes. "I'll take you."

The chubby brunette kid turned to the blonde and said, looking at Darry, "Hey, James, I don't think we should be doing that." I smirked at him. What a smart kid.

James chuckled. "If I can take on a Greaser like Dallas Winston, I think I can take on these bums," he said with a small grin.

Dally? This bastard touched Dally? I slid Johnny's switchblade out of my back pocket and flipped it open. I looked James in his frightened, brown eyes even though his eyes were set on the blade, not me. "_What_ about Dallas Winston?" I questioned, cocking my head. Curly and Steve also took out their blades, backing me up.

"Hey," James yelled shakily, "No knives allowed. That's illegal here."

"Excuses, excuses. Man up, James," I emphasized his name as if it were poison on my lips. Whatever gang this kid was a part of, whether it be the Socs or something completely different, I didn't like this guy one bit.

Curly set his blade down on the bar behind him, and then turned and said, "Okay, I'll fight fair." He took one step forward and punched James in the face, and it was a good hit. Curly was a damn good fighter, and he always has been. James's nose bled immediately, and his cheek reddened where the little Shepard hit it. Another guy in the gang came out of nowhere and punched Steve in the face for no apparent reason, and Steve kicked him sideways in the knee and probably broke it. James, still in some state of shock, took a beer bottle out of his friend's hand and broke it over Curly's head, which was a cheap move. Curly swore, and there was a gash that turned his twisted black hair even darker. Someone else at the bar pulled both Steve and Curly back by the collar just before they were about to tackle their opponents.

"Hey!" he yelled, "Take it outside!" The guy then stared at Darry, who was staring back. They studied each other for a moment. Then the guy said, "Darrel?"

"Paul?" questioned Darry.

They softly exchanged words for a bit and then Soda and I looked at each other in confusion. I turned around to look at James, but he and his cronies were gone.

Two minutes later, I was sitting outside on the back steps of the Seabrook, and as Darry and Paul talked, I was bandaging up Curly's head in some gauze that Paul gave me. Curly kept talking nonsense that I wasn't paying attention to. Soda was talking to Steve, and he had his shirt over Steve's huge, profusely-bleeding nose. I watched the red spot on Soda's shirt as it grew larger and larger.

I remembered Darry talking about Paul Holden. They used to buddy around together and play football back in high school. Darry couldn't go to college because of us, but Paul was able to go. The last time they met, there was pure hatred in their eyes, and I knew how embarrassed Darry was to be seen with us. It really confused me how they were talking like normal people.

"Pony," Darry suddenly called out to me, and I looked up to see him and Paul walking towards Two-Bit and I. "Paul here knows where Dally's off to."

I almost stood up, ran over to Paul, and gave him a big hug, but I continued to care for Curly. "Where?" I asked, trying to hide the eagerness.

"St. Louis," Paul answered, and I looked up at him now. He was a big man with a square jaw and maybe not as many muscles as Darry had, but much more broader shoulders. He had golden blonde hair and light brown eyes. Paul continued, "Dally got into a fight with the same guy, James, just a few minutes before you guys arrived, and Dally won bigtime." He didn't have to tell me that. "So then I broke it up and took Dally outside and I guess he recognized me and, I think he was drunk, but he told me he was going to St. Louis for some reason," he shrugged. "I don't know what for, but that's what he told me."

Steve appeared out of nowhere and asked, "Is he leaving today?"

"I doubt it," Paul said, and he was right. "He's probably going to stay in the city for a few days. If y'all are going to find him, you shouldn't go looking for him around here. He could be miles away by now, so don't waste your time or energy. You may wanna wait a day or two before you head out."

_Perfect_, I thought to myself as I nodded in agreement to Paul, and then he and Darry wrapped up into conversation again. "Well that's good," I said to Curly. "We can heal you up for a little bit longer."

He winced as I pulled the last shard of glass out of his head. And then he looked up to me with half-closed, pain-filled eyes. "I'm okay," he said woozily. I had already got the bleeding under control, but I looked down at my once-white shirt and saw that the part where Curly's head was resting against was now a deep maroon color, all wet, sticky, and warm.

"How come you always gotta act on impulse?" I asked him, realizing how often he did that. "It gets you into a hell of a lot of trouble."

Curly frowned. "Because I'm dumb."

"You're not dumb, Curly." I lied. I was in all of Curly's classes this year, and he was doing poorly in all of them. I guess I just wanted to comfort him. I ran my fingers once through his hair, and to see how much blood was in it. It curled around my fingers and made brushes of red streaks on my hand. I was beginning to smell it, too. There was a lot of blood, but even though I had it under control, I was afraid Curly was going to die right here in my arms.

"I'm tired," his eyes were fluttering. "I think I'm gonna go pass out now," he sighed, nuzzled his nose into my stomach, and then fell asleep. I knew he wasn't dead because I heard his heavy breathing. I swore under my breath and then stroked the side of his face to comfort him. I guess I just couldn't help myself. He was too cute when he slept.

I eavesdropped on Paul and Darry's conversation. "I don't think you should be taking the curly-haired kid to the hospital," Paul stated. "You need the money for the trip. There's this old football field, down the street in that direction," he pointed to the right of The Seabrook, "Don't walk down the sidewalk 'cause you might get jumped by another guy like James. Walk through the forest. You'll see the field as soon as you reach the red pine tree. You can hang out under the bleachers for as long as you need until he gets better." Paul was right. I wanted to like this guy because of how smart he was, but I couldn't. He was a Soc. It was too hard.

Darry looked at me and nodded once, signaling that it was time to go. "Thank you, Paul. It was nice talking to you."

"Good luck," Paul replied. It was such a vague statement. I couldn't tell if Paul was referring to the situation we were in with Dally, the fact Curly was passed out in my arms, or just Darry's life in general. But I looked at Darry and he started walking. It must not have bothered him enough to care. So, in turn, I ignored it.

I lifted Curly up by the armpits and slung him over my shoulder. He was heavy, but I could handle him. I followed Soda, Steve, Two-Bit, and Darry, but I was walking much slower because of the weight on my shoulders (literally).

It didn't take long before Darry stopped me. "You want me to carry him? Curly's got a build on him. I don't want you to break your back or nothing."

I was struggling a little – Curly was at least fifteen pounds heavier than I was, a few months older, and about an inch taller, too – but I knew I could manage until we got to the field. "Nah, I'm good," I assured Darry, and then looked back at Curly to see he was drooling all over the back of my shirt. Blood and spit. Darry was gonna have a fun time getting those stains out.

* * *

**Sorry for the shortness. It's really early in the AM. I'm tired. I think I'm going to go pass out now…**

**-Subway**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here, we have a conversation between Two-Bit and Darry, and then the gang watches the news. This was supposed to be added onto chapter 4, but with this and all that happened in the chapter, I just decided to make a new one. And plus I was tired.**

**Dally****: Lazy bum…****  
Me****: Buddy, I played sax for four hours straight at a tavern in Texas state! You ever do that before? It gets you hella sweaty.****Dally****: Like in 'St. Elmo's Fire'? When Rob Lowe plays the sax?****  
Me****: Yes. Exactly like that.****  
Dally****: You play the saxophone. That's lame. I bet you named your saxophone, too!****  
Me****: I make more money than YOU do! And so what if I named my sax? Do you have a problem with that?****  
Dally****: You NAMED your SAX? You must be in marching band, too! Hahaha!****  
Me****: Fuck you, Dallas.****  
Dally****: I take that as a big, fat, geeky YES! [laughs more]**

**-Subway****

* * *

TWO-BIT'S POV**

By the time we made it to the football field, Ponyboy almost dropped Curly on his head twice. The bleachers were cold, but under them it was a shield from the wind. There was a whole lot of trash underneath them as well. But I could deal with it.

As Steve and Soda attended to the still-sleeping Curly, I went up onto the bleachers and lay back to look at the stars. It seemed a little against my nature, but I guess I wasn't in the playful mood right now. I felt bad that my actions ended up getting Curly hurt. I knew that he was going to be okay, but it still didn't sit well with me. I was thinking hard about Dally, how he got in a fight with that blonde kid and was now in St. Louis. It made me think that this little family vacation was turning into what seemed like a wild goose chase.

The night seemed to calm me. It was a breezy, beautiful December night, though it was freezing. The stars were everywhere, more than I've ever seen before. Under the stars, I was alone among a city of strangers, and I liked it. I was staring so intently up at them that I barely even noticed Darry lying down next to me.

"Awfully pretty, huh?" he asked me, hands behind his head, gazing at the sky.

"Yeah," I paused, looking at him funny, making sure that it was actually Darry that was next to me. It was dark out despite the moonlight, so I could have been wrong. It could have been Pony. But no, it was surely Darrel. Pony didn't have muscles.

He responded with casual silence. It was a while until he said, "Two-Bit, can I ask you something? Since when does Ponyboy have a switchblade?"

I couldn't help it but to laugh at this. "Are you blaming me for your kid brother's possession of a weapon? 'Cause that's a little offensive." I laughed again. "Who am I kidding? I'm the one and only usual suspect in these types of ordeals, aren't I? Hell, I'm proud of it. Don't feel bad."

"I _don't_ feel bad," Darrel said straightforwardly. "Where'd he get the blade?"

I shrugged. "Don't ask me." I smiled at the fact that what I just said completely countered what I ranted on about before. We sat there in a breezy silence, hearing nothing but the leaves cracking against each other. And it was dark, too. The only light I could see was from the moon and a lone, broken streetlight from down the street. It was pretty peaceful, just me and Darry, all alone.

"Man, I don't even have a blade for myself," I declared, breaking the silence. "I gave it to Dallas when he was in the hospital. He ran off with it. That damn blade was like my child. And he's probably lost it. I knew I shouldn't have given it to him." I wanted to add more, but a sudden, ice-cold gust of wind tore straight through my skin and sent shivers down my spine. My teeth clattered. "Damn, it's so freakin' cold…"

"You're wearing a sleeveless shirt in the middle of winter, of course you're gonna be cold."

I looked at him helplessly. "But it's my favorite shirt. It's got Mickey on it."

He cocked an eyebrow, looked me over, and then scooted next to me. "Here," He took his coat off, wrapped his arm around me and put the jacket\blanket over the both of us.

"Aw, Darry, you don't _have_ to…," as soon as I said it, I regretted it, because the combined warmth of his flannel jacket and his large, muscular body was very comfortable. And I couldn't really hear his reply anyways because, with one last gaze up at the stars, I drifted away into sleep.

**PONYBOY'S POV**

Another day passed. Curly was taking the pain like a man. Soda and Steve seemed to get along with each other pretty darn well. Darry and I were bonding. The whole time, the five of us played football with a ball we found under the bleachers. It was fun, but the trip was turning into more than something that would last a day. We were going to be on the road for quite a while, I could already tell.

The next morning, I woke up because of the sun in my eyes. I sat up on the bleacher I was on and saw Darry a few steps down, sprawled out on the cold metal as if it weren't thirty degrees outside. As I looked him over, I saw his pants were soaking wet. I smelled pee. I then noticed Darry's hand in a bowl of water. I smiled. Two-Bit was so disgusting.

"Darry," I shook him awake, looking up at the sky. The sun was creeping towards the west. After the long day yesterday, we had to have been sleeping for ten hours, at the least. I was pretty damn hungry.

Darry opened his eyes, and then must have felt the mess in his jeans, so he looked down. "What the…" After taking his hand out of the water and looking at it for a bit, he realized what had happened, because he ran off of the bleachers and onto the sideline and took his pants off, sporting a pair of grey underwear. I couldn't help it but to crack up at his situation, and when Steve, Soda, and Two-Bit appeared and saw what was going on, they laughed, too. Darry scolded them, but the boys obviously couldn't take a guy with no pants on seriously.

I decided to go check up on Curly. When I got to where he was, I saw him lying on the ground, with his back against the wall of the inside of the bleachers. He was chewing on his fingernails, but he didn't stop when he saw me, just smiled and switched from his pointer finger to his thumb.

"Hi, Curly," I said, the greeting I always hated myself for using on the guy I liked. I sat down on my knees and examined him. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged, and then moved to his pinkie finger. "I'm okay, I guess. But when I stand, my eyes get all fuzzy." I moved the bandages to see if his head was healing. They were soaked with blood, and you couldn't even tell that they used to be white. Wishing Paul gave us some extra, I slowly unraveled them. Curly took one last look at his freshly-cut nails and must have decided they looked okay, so he put his hands on his lap. "I think we can hit the road tonight."

"I don't think so," I said to him as I crammed the dirty gauze up into a ball and threw it a distance away. "Not another overnight trip. No sir."

A small pause, and then Curly asked, looking through the slits in the bleachers, "What happened to your big brother? He wet his bed?"

I really didn't feel like explaining, so I just nodded.

Curly laughed at this, and then, as if on cue, Darry appeared and stood before us, still without his pants. He said, sounding kind of annoyed, "Come on, you two, we're leaving."

I helped Curly stand up, and he leaned on me for support. We ended up with our arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, and this, of course, made me turn red. Two-Bit had a couple of nasty comments about that, so Curly gave him the finger.

We drove.

And then we drove.

And after that, we drove some more.

It was late at night, really dark outside, and barely anyone was on the road. But it still felt like it was taking forever. Curly fell back asleep immediately. Two-Bit followed soon after. Soda fell asleep on Steve's shoulder not ten minutes into the trip. And then, just as we got onto the highway, Steve fell asleep too, his head resting on Soda's. I fell asleep for almost four hours as well, and when I woke up, it was around seven in the morning. I didn't say anything to Darry. I never really have been able to, and that bothered me something awful. He was my brother, I could at least say a little bit to him, couldn't I? But I was still tired, so I didn't even try. I just looked out at the road.

We drove for another hour in near silence before making it into the city, and by then, Soda had woken up. "I'm hungry," he groaned, holding his stomach, "Get me something to eat!" His eyes were half closed and he looked miserable. I've never seen Soda hungry because he eats like a horse whenever he wants. I almost felt bad for him, but then I realized how hungry _I_ was.

"Okay, Soda, we'll get you something." Darry pulled off of the highway and we traveled down some suburban streets searching for a place to eat. Steve and Two-Bit woke up as well, also hungry. We ended up stopping at some small bar\cafe place that smelled like an oil change. We all stuffed our faces with whatever we could afford.

They were playing the local news on the TV in the corner. I was thoroughly bored. I shoved three cheese fries at once into my mouth, then heard a sudden, "Oh my god," from Steve and looked in his direction. Steve, his mouth hung open even though there was chewed-up food inside, pointed to the television screen in the corner.

I studied the image on the screen, and saw that it was a picture of Dally. My mind wasn't able to grasp the information at first, but then I felt my heart beat fast. Steve ran over to the TV and pressed the volume up all the way so we could hear what the newscaster was saying.

"…from Oklahoma that has a vigorous criminal record. Winston's robbery of Flo's Ice Cream Shop on north Vandeventer Avenue becomes the sixth robbery on the file. Police total the amount of money stolen from the store at three hundred dollars. Witnesses say Winston brought a black-handled Balisong, or butterfly knife, as a weapon at the crime, but nobody had been hurt. Winston has fled and left no trace of evidence for the police to follow."

I sat there, wide-eyed and amazed. Dally is still in St. Louis. Or at least he _used_ to be. But we had to sniff out his trail, and fast.

* * *

**Two-Bit said it right: it's not just a family trip to Kansas anymore. It's getting awfully heated. Well, there's Dallas Winston for you, huh?**

**I like the way I'm taking Two-Bit's character. Normal Two-Bit is not the same as switchblade-less Two-Bit, as you might tell. And I'm thinking that I might have he and Darry get something going…**

**-Subway **


	6. Chapter 6

**So you're back for more? Sounds good. I like you guys, too. Anyways, this chapter puts Steve and Soda on a hot tin roof. **

**Dallas:**** Nice metaphor! [laughs]****  
Me****: Shut up, Dally! It's like a habit here in Texas. I can't help it. You get what I'm trying to say, so don't complain.****  
Dallas****: Actually, I **_**don't**_** get what you're trying to say.****  
Darrel****: Me neither. Who has tin for a roof? How stupid do you have to be? It'll get all hot.****  
Dallas:**** Yeah, so hot, not even Superman here could lay it down for ya.****  
Darrel:**** [grabs Dallas by the collar] **_**What**_** did you just call me?****  
Me****: Shut up, you guys. Just read it. **

**-Subway****

* * *

CURLY'S POV**

At the ice cream store, it was packed with cops, and we had a tough time getting into the shop, but, after Soda parked the car a ways away and we squeezed our way through the fuzz and reporters, we got to the inside. Soda lent me his jacket to wear over my bloody one, since this was our first time out in public and we didn't want anyone seeing the mess and taking it the wrong way.

The place was packed with well-groomed cops and reporters. Let's just say that our gang didn't blend in, so it took less than ten seconds before we were noticed. And stereotyped.

The newscaster that spotted us was 4'9 on a good day and she had short, blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and too much makeup on. She looked like she was in her late forties. The newscaster did a double take when she saw us and then tugged the sleeve of her cameraman and then she whispered something to him. And next thing I knew, they were both in front of us, the camera rolling.

"Hello," she spoke into the microphone in her hand as she looked at the camera, "This is Sheila Johnson with Channel Two Nightly News, and I am here live at the scene of the robbery. I have discovered a group of delinquent teenagers who reportedly know robber Dallas Winston." How did she know that? Or maybe it was just a guess, by the way we looked.

Darry, about twice her size, looked down at her and said threateningly, "Who said we were delinquents?"

The newscaster looked up at Darry with wide eyes, obviously scared. "Sorry about that." She turned to a less-scary member of the gang, and that happened to be Soda. He was the most handsome out of all of us. "Young man, so all of our viewers at home can keep an eye out for him and keep him off the streets, where is Dallas Winston?" She shoved the microphone in Sodapop's face.

Soda stared at the camera for a few seconds. "Um…well…" He didn't look very comfortable. "Well we…uh…"

"What Soda here is trying to say," Steve interrupted with a fake smile, "is that we're here to figure that out ourselves, right, guys?" In response, we all ad-libbed, agreeing with Randle.

But Sheila Johnson from Channel Two Nightly News needed the whole story. "And _why _are you here to figure out Mr. Winston's location?"

Steve's mouth hung open as if he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just turned around and walked away. The rest of us stood there for not even a second more before spinning around and following him, leaving Sheila Johnson from Channel Two Nightly News alone in the dust.

Soda yelled at Darry about something as I scanned the shop. Dallas was good: he didn't leave any trace of evidence. The door of the cash register was missing, but that was the only noticeable thing. Otherwise, nothing. I casually looked down on the white-tiled floor and saw a folded up piece of paper on the ground. I bent down and opened it.

_**Came here a year ago in search of a good deal on expensive cigarettes.**_

_** -Dallas**_

I folded it back up and then shoved it into my pocket, afraid one of the cops would see it and take it away. I turned from the gang and started to walk out of the building.

"Hey," shouted someone from behind me, and I think it was Steve. "Where are you going?"

I didn't answer; I just kept weaving my way through the crowd and expected the gang to follow me. Unsurprisingly, they did, and when we got out of the mess of people, I showed them the note.

"Holy shit," exclaimed Soda, "Is that _our_ Dally?"

Steve nodded. "That's his handwriting. I just don't know what the note is supposed to mean. Is he talking about the ice cream shop or somewhere else?"

I noticed that I was pacing back and forth. I stopped and took the note from Steve's fingers and studied it some more. Expensive cigarettes. I knew this…I remember Tim saying something about it, but I just couldn't remember. "I have no idea what he means by this," I stated, defeated.

We then heard an abrupt shout of, "Over there! _There_ they are!" and I glanced in the direction to see a big black guy standing a ways away, near the door, and pointing at us. Three cops came out from behind them, and then someone pulled my jacket sleeve.

I turned to see that the rest of the gang was running away at top speed, so I followed them. Pony was the fastest runner out of all of us, but he slowed down to the group's average speed and kept pace behind Steve, maybe since Pony didn't know where he was going. We ran as fast as we can, trying to keep at a close pace to each other.

We crossed another football field and ran towards what looked like a school. We stopped at the back wall of the school and caught our breath.

Soda peered cautiously around the corner to see if the cops followed us. He turned back to us and then shook his head, signaling 'we lost them'.

We sat there for another minute trying to catch our breath, and when we all were okay, Darry said, "We shouldn't risk going back there to get the car. We can wait till tomorrow morning; maybe the situation will clear up by then. We should spend the night here."

"Another football field?" Steve seemed annoyed already. "Let's go on the roof," he motioned with his head at the school. I turned to see Two-Bit standing next to a ladder that was attached to the side of the school wall, and he was pointing to it with his thumb. We raced over there and went up the ladder one by one.

Up on the roof, there was somebody sitting there in a fold-out chair with a cigarette in his mouth. The guy looked like me, with the black hair and the blue eyes, but it was too big to be me.

I was still studying the guy when Darry spoke, "Tim Shepard? That you?" Well, duh, of course it was. I nearly laughed at myself, I was so stupid.

My brother looked in our direction, and I was, for some reason, happy to see him. I waved, and the other Greasers looked at me like I was crazy. But Tim managed a single wave back. "Well that took long enough. Catch a glimpse of Dally since I left you guys?"

I ran over to my brother and sat down on the flat roof next to him. Slowly, everyone else joined us. "No, we haven't," Steve said coldly. "Have you?"

Tim shook his head. "Nope. Heard he robbed an ice cream place a few blocks back, though." Tim pulled out a few beers from under his chair and handed them to us. "Here, have one. You all look beat." I liked it how casually Tim was taking this that we just happened to be here.

As the other Greasers whispered to each other (some of them taking a bottle in the process) Tim took a short glance at me, but his eyes locked. "What in the world happened to your head, Curly?" He grabbed my jaw and turned my head this way and that, examining me. He looked into my hair, running his fingers through it and looking at his fingers to find dried blood. "Damnit, Curly, did you get _cut_?" He hit me upside the head. "You dumb shit; you always act on impulse, don't you?" He went on calling me every swear word I've ever heard. A few new ones, too. I just smiled. I was glad to have him back.

**SODA'S POV**

The night tonight was sparkling, beautiful. There weren't and lights here except for the moon, and I liked it that way. We hung around for hours and talked. Curly and Pony both fell asleep before anyone else, right on top of each other. Oddly enough, so did Darry.

I found it weird that Tim was here. He couldn't have known we were coming, could he? And the fact that he brought beer was confusing, too. The last words he had said to me had the word "fuck" etched in there about five times. Maybe one of the reasons I didn't take a beer was because I thought it was poison.

The presence of alcohol lightened up the mood between Steve and Tim. I really didn't like to drink very much, so I didn't have any, but when Two-Bit's drunk, it's an automatic good time. For once, Mr. Mathews kept his intake minimal. But I didn't care about that. It was Steve who was bothering me. He had his fair share of drinks. Steve drunk had never been fun. He was talking really loudly and we kept telling him to shut up in case the cops heard us or that he might wake up Pony or Curly. But he didn't shut up.

Steve was saying some pretty nasty things to me but I ignored them for the most part. I figured: he was drunk, and he didn't mean any of it. He said a bunch of shit, like that I'm a dumb dropout, or I'm "too scared" to have sex with him but he doesn't care because I'd just cry anyways. Tim kept telling him to "shut your trap before I shut it for you" and stuff like that, but, as usual, Steve didn't seem to take him seriously. Two-Bit just sat there, sipping his beer, not really helping. Steve kept acting out and I really didn't say much. Tim eventually got annoyed that Steve wasn't listening to him so he went off of the roof and went to go pee in the grass.

"You know what you are? You're weak!" Steve yelled, his words terribly slurred. "We've been with each other for months now, and you can't get past second base. You're like a cheap whore, all you get to is the kissing, no sex. Thank God you don't charge me money for it because I'd be broke by now." He paused. "That's all you are. Nothing more! You ain't my best friend. You're here to arouse me. And you're stupid, you don't see that."

I brushed it off, again. What he was saying to me couldn't have been true, but it _was_ beginning to get to me. I was hoping that, soon, seeing that this didn't affect me, he would get bored and go to sleep and forget it all tomorrow.

"I don't know why I even talk to you," Steve continued. "It feels like your holding me back from the real world. I need to leave you so I can have a good chase."

I felt hot tears of anger and frustration rising, and I knew he didn't mean it, but I was getting pretty darn upset. I couldn't help it but to snap back at him. "You want a chase, huh? Well what are you chasing? Your tail?" As I spoke this, Tim was climbing back up onto the roof.

Steve looked at me like I just murdered his family and then stood up, and walked over to me and got close, looking like he wanted to fight. "What did you just say to me?" There was a fire in his eyes. "What did you just say, you little shit?" I was utterly amazed that he just called me that. Nobody's ever called me that before, never in my whole life. I stood there, not really knowing what to say.

Tim warned, "Don't call him that, Stephen."

"Oh," Steve seemed amused. "Bringing out the first name here! What a threat that is. What are you going to do? Hit me? Ah, what am I saying, you wouldn't hit me. You're too big of a pussy. What about that time, when you saw me kissin' Sodapop, and you didn't do nothin' about it? You were scared. You were scared 'cause your heart was broken and you never felt like that before. Ain't that right, Tim? You're heart was broken? You think I had feelings for you? Newsflash, buddy, I don't!" Steve threw his head back and laughed mockingly. Tim's cheeks turned a light shade of red, even though Tim kept the stern look in his eyes and tried to make it seem unnoticeable. "You don't scare me," Steve said with no trace of doubt in his voice. "You're blade don't scare me. You're…_size_ don't scare me. Nothing. You're a huge pussy." I saw Pony, Curly, and Darry sitting up and staring at us. They must have woken up from the yelling.

Tim didn't know how to reply with anything other than a threat. "Watch it, buddy, or I'll have your head," he shoved me out of the way - a little bit hard, but somehow I kept my balance - and then Tim stared the much smaller Steve in his blazing eyes.

Steve didn't seem to be rattled at all. "I'll take you," he smiled.

Tim went from that protective sort of anger to one as if he had just been terribly insulted. Well, I guess he _was_ just terribly insulted. "Come on, make your move," he said slyly, and I saw him clench his fists. Steve shoved him slightly, but just hard enough that Tim took it as the trigger.

He almost took a hard swing at Steve, but I couldn't stand to see it happen. I spun around, not walking to look, and shouted at the top of my lungs, "Stop it! Stop it, you guys! I don't want you to fight! It's ridiculous!" It was silent now, so I turned around, seeing Steve opening his mouth as if he was going to speak, but I cut him off, "Steve, sweetheart, you're so drunk! Just shut up and go to sleep! God damnit!" All four of them stood there in a stunned silence for so long that I just spun around and stormed away.

At first, I wasn't sure where I was going, but I ended up sitting against the wall of where the door to the staircase into the school was. I sat on the side where no one could see me, and held my knees to my chest. I strained to listen to what the boys were saying, but I couldn't hear anything. I wiped my wet eyes on my sleeve. Damn, I absolutely hated crying.

"Hey," I heard from a soft voice above me. I looked up, saw it was Tim, and turned away from him. "Can I sit down?" he asked, although I was ignoring him.

I didn't reply, but he sat down next to me anyways, with his knees up in the air like mine were. I still didn't turn to face him. We sat there in silence for a little bit, and this whole evening couldn't have confused me more. I've _never_ spoken to Tim. Not in my entire life. I just sat there, hoping he would leave, but he didn't. I took a glance at him, and his usually blazing blue eyes were calm and sparkling in the moonlight. Something about this made me comfortable enough to talk. "I see him through those bloodshot eyes," I told Tim.

"I know you do." My mind spun. Why in the world was Tim being so nice and listening to me? Maybe he just came over here to get some sleep.

As comfortable as I was, I didn't believe him. "There was something in Steve's voice that told me that he wasn't just saying that out of a loss of morals. I bet you he really thinks of me like that: just some guy who's too afraid to move to the next level. That's what I am. Just some guy…" I wanted to add more, but I couldn't. There was a pain in my throat that I couldn't swallow.

Tim seemed surprised. "Are you kidding? Nobody thinks of you like that."

"From what I heard, Steve does."

"Soda…," he said softly, and then scooted closer to me, until we were pressed up against each other and Tim wrapped his arm around me, holding me close. "He was drunk. He didn't know what he was saying, and he'll forget it all in the morning. I know he doesn't think of you like that," his voice was overly comforting, but I still didn't buy it. "You want me to tell you what _I_ think about you?" Tim asked. Of course I did. I laid my head on his shoulder; kind of tired, but still listening. "I think you're incredible, funny,-" he counted off these things on his fingers as he spoke them "-irresistible, classy, smart, strong, tough, amazing, and beautiful; and I can't get you out of my head."

"That's it?" I joked around, my mood much better. Tim laughed a little, but it wasn't audible; I could just feel him. "Thanks, Tim," I said. "You just…you know what to say." It still wasn't making sense to me why he defended me like that, and I couldn't help it but to ask. "Tim…why did you defend me from Steve back there? You know you didn't have to do that."

"I know. I don't know what happened, but something got a hold of me. I couldn't stand Steve treating someone like that. I thought, what if it was Curly, and I just couldn't take it." He shrugged. "I don't really have an explanation. It just…happened."

I smelled him. He smelled like coffee. I didn't like to drink coffee, and I didn't think Tim did either, but I suddenly fell in love with the smell. "Well…thank you, Tim. That was really a tuff thing for you to do. You're a damn good guy, nothing like I expected. You really helped me out back there."

"Don't mention it. I still don't even understand what I did."

I smiled calmly, shutting my eyes. "Me neither."

There was some silence as we sat there together. I reopened my eyes and saw that the stars were in the sky, and as beautiful as ever. It got me thinking about the note. What it meant. Dally had to have known that we were looking for him, especially if he left that "clue" for us. But why didn't he just stop and wait? And where in the world was he?

But then it suddenly hit me. I think my heart skipped a beat. I remembered: Dallas was going to Decatur, Illinois on a trip where he would A) escape from suspicion from the cops (he held up a liquor store the previous night) and B) catch a good deal on some top-notch cigarettes that he wanted to try. The only reason I remembered this was because somebody slashed Dally's tires the night before he was going to take off, and he came over to my house and woke me up at two in the morning so I would come to the DX and fix it. It was the same day the new tires came in, and Dallas "had no cash," so I yelled at him but in the end gave him the tires. And the day after, my boss nearly skinned me.

The comfort of that memory and the sound of Tim's strong heartbeat added together was like heaven. "Hey, Tim?" I got his attention softly, slowly falling asleep. "I know where Dally is. He's in Decatur, Illinois." I bit my lip, proud of myself, and I knew that Tim was going to be, too.

I could nearly feel him smiling. "We'll head out in the morning."

There was an elongated silence as this sunk in for both of us. This whole thing excited me, even the mere thought of seeing Dally again was thrilling. I needed a good chase. Okay, that came out wrong, but you know what I mean.

"Good work, kid," he said to me, and, out of nowhere, he kissed me softly on the head. I swear to you, I could have died right there. I felt like I was in heaven. "Go to sleep. We got a long road ahead of us tomorrow."

I slowly closed my eyes, and obliged.

* * *

**Ooh…so Dally caused some trouble, huh? And left a clue behind…hmm…it makes you wonder what's going through his head. And then you have Tim. Is he really starting to like the naïve Sodapop, or is he getting Steve jealous? You never know, but there's Tim Shepard for ya. You never know what he's up to.**

**-Subway**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, so here we are again. This one is kind of short, and I apologize in advance. Not much happens here, either. Just some making out. **

**Pony:**** Is it between me and Curly?****  
Dally:**** Why? Do you **_**want**_** it to be?****  
Pony:**** [turns red]****  
Me:**** Shut up, Dal! You aren't even in the story yet!****  
Dally:**** [ignores me] Aww! Ponyboy Michael Curtis finds his first love! How cute! Congrats, kid. Maybe you can end up having each other's babies, huh? [laughs more]****  
Me:**** Go away Dallas, which ever your city you're in. Go hit a bar, rob a place, or jump an innocent child. Whatever floats your boat. Just beat it.****  
Dally:**** [shrugs and walks away, still laughing] **

**Golly, that Dallas Winston sure can get stubborn sometimes. Oh well, I can always kill him off…jk! :] Anyways, here you go. **

**-Subway****

* * *

SODA'S POV**

When I woke up, we were in Springfield, and Decatur was only a short ways away. It also had to have been around five at night. I remember telling Tim that Dally was heading to Decatur, but I didn't really remember going into the car, or even driving, for that matter. All I really remembered from last night was Steve getting really drunk and yelling at me. And then Tim, comforting me, and making me feel better than I ever have in a long while.

I turned around cautiously to see Steve, and he was just lying there, asleep. We were getting near the city and he had to wake up eventually. For the rest of the drive, I thought about what I was going to say to him, and eventually came up with the solution that I wasn't going to say anything to him at all. I figured: he created the problem, now he had to whip up the solution.

It started to rain just as we got into the city. It rained really hard, and the rain was freezing cold, too, and I was surprised it wasn't turning into snow. Since the convertible's roof was broken, we couldn't pull it up to shield ourselves. I guess that was good because none of us had bathed for however many days now, and mine and my brother's clothes were still dirty. It was around 8 PM, so we decided to find some sort of shelter. A roof or football field wouldn't work this time. We ended up discovering a forest, so we parked the car in an empty lot (and took the keys with us so nobody would steal the car) and walked through the forest until we found a decent place to camp out for the night.

Steve, of course was awake. I tried to ignore him, but Pony and Curly tried to chase a raccoon and Darry and Tim both rushed to stop them. That left Steve and I alone together.

"Hey, Soda," he greeted me, his hands in his pockets. I looked at him, and he looked awfully attractive. The days away from plumbing gave him a short, stubble beard along his jaw line. His hair had all the grease out of it and it was now waves of soggy, black curls on his head. The rain made a loud tapping noise every time a drop hit his broad shoulders. The gray shirt he was wearing was soaking wet, and it was pressed up against his chest so you could see every muscle on him. And he still had that calm smile plastered onto his face that he seemed to never be able to take off. His eyes, however, looked apologetic. I knew what was coming.

"Hey, Steve," I replied, trying hard to be casual, as if the conversation we were inevitably about to have wasn't at all important to me. It was.

"Listen," he said, standing next to me, but not looking at me. "I acted completely ridiculous last night, and I didn't mean any of it, not one word." I wasn't looking at his face, but I could tell by his voice that he really meant what he was saying. "I love you. I hope you're not mad at me."

He_ what?_ My heart leapt into my throat. I've never heard those three words from anybody in my whole life, besides Pony. I paused as I watched a small, furry raccoon run past, followed by Curly and Pony. I smiled with my mouth closed. "I'm not mad, Steve, I promise." I lied. Of course I was mad, but I guess that I couldn't show it. He…just told me that he _loved_ me!

"Oh, good," he smiled, relived. He looked surprised that I wasn't upset. And by this, I came to the hesitant conclusion that he was sincere about his apology. He was such a good talker, even better than me sometimes. I'm a smooth, intimidating, classy, and clever speaker, no matter what the topic, and I know that I could say at least something to him about how I feel, but I didn't. I just let him continue. "I promise: no more fighting." He paused, and then asked innocently, "Hug? Please?"

I shrugged, smiling my fakest smile, and he wrapped his arms around me, and I hugged him back. We pulled away from each other and then I looked him in his bright green eyes and he looked into mine and I said to him softly, "How about a kiss, too?"

Steve must have agreed, because we were leaning in to kiss each other. I closed my eyes after he did, and then our lips met. We sucked on each other's lips for a little bit, and I brought my hands up to his head and grabbed fistfuls of his curly, black hair. He slipped his tongue into my mouth and I accepted it lustily. We played an arousing game of tonsil hockey and, as usual, Steve smiled in the middle of it and then game was cut off, but then it continued as he regained his cool. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him, and our bodies were pressed up against each other's. With my eyes closed, I pictured myself kissing Tim. I wondered what it would feel like, with his tongue in my mouth. My heart leapt at the thought that, at some point, Tim's lips were on the same mouth as I had mine on now. I felt somewhat honored that Shepard and I both had our tongues in the same place. The thought made Steve taste way better.

But then my heart sunk in my chest. Steve just told me that he loved me, and now I was thinking about Tim? I felt like I'd just betrayed Steve, and that was something I could never do.  
I heard muddy footsteps nearing us. I opened my eyes back up and then pulled my lips away from Steve's, but we were still holding onto each other.

"Well. I see you guys made up," Two-Bit said wittily. I glared at him, and, not intimidated, he laughed out loud, along with Tim. Hearing Tim laugh at the situation was like a million pounds lifted off of my shoulders. I guess that he wasn't mad.

Steve let go of me, and then bit his lip, unsuccessfully holding back a smile. "What makes you think that?"

Darry looked irritated. He said quickly, "Let's go," and then turned around, and we continued walking.

**PONY'S POV **

We kept walking until we hit a lake. There was a small, wooden sign stuck in the ground that read "Lake Tokorozawa." There were trees making a canopy so we couldn't get wet, although we were already wet and cold. Most of the guys (Darry, Two-Bit, and Curly) fell asleep within the first couple of hours. It was silent except we could hear a few flocks of geese honking on their way south. Legs crossed and fiddling with the grass, I found myself talking to Sodapop.

"How are you and Steve?" I asked him, suddenly remembering how feisty they'd been with each other in Tulsa. "Things are okay between you two now?"

"Yeah," Soda sighed, smiling dreamily, and twirling a blade of grass between his thumb and pointer finger. "We're real good."

"And how good is 'real good'?" I asked, extremely curious about the smile on his face. I really was glad to hear that their relationship was repaired. I liked Soda and Steve together. Soda deserved a guy like Steve. Steve was always acting older than his age; and this was mainly because of his dad. And that's why I think Sodapop is good for him. Soda is playful, cheery, and, of course, handsome, so you'd think that he and Steve would be like oil and water, but there was something about Steve that must have driven Soda crazy. If Steve had a problem, Soda would be right there to help him. Soda was just a card perfect for Steve, and I loved it.

Soda blushed and smiled. He then said softly, "Real good as in…he told me he loved me."

"Aw, Sodapop…that's awesome!"

He sighed – it sounded like a mixture of a contented sigh and a triumphant one – and then laid back, crossing his feet and folding his arms behind his head. I looked at him and he had a huge smile spread out across his face. He hadn't been this happy since Sandy. "I guess it is."  
I lay back in the same fashion that he did. I marveled the sky poking through the treetops. It seemed that the more rural our location, the more brilliant the stars looked. And the moon looked brighter than I've ever seen it. The rain made the smell of the pine trees much more prominent, and there was a slight breeze that you could feel only if you really concentrated on it. It was very pretty.  
Soda yawned. "Uh, Pony, can I tell you something?"

"Sure, Soda."

He swallowed audibly. "I…think I like Tim."

My heart sunk. No. No, Soda, you should _not_ have told me that. I'd be better off not hearing that in my whole life. I told myself I didn't hear it, but I looked into my brother's eyes and I saw he was waiting for a reaction out of me. I couldn't think of one to give him, so I said nothing.

Soda just started talking, letting everything flow, which was weird, since I was usually the one to do the talking while he listened. "When Steve yelled at me last night, and I got mad and ran away, you saw that, right?" I nodded, and Soda continued. "Well, when I was behind that wall there, I cried, I'll admit it. It felt like Steve took my heart right out of my chest and stepped on it. And I was just sitting there, crying, and then Tim shows up and sits next to me. I didn't know what his problem was, but the next thing I know, I'm in his arms and he's telling me all the things he likes about me. Like…he was trying to make me feel better. And I didn't get it at all, because whenever I hear about Tim, it's always about him getting hurt or him hurting someone or him doing something illegal. And then for the first conversation I've ever had with the guy, he's trying to make me feel good. I didn't get it, Pony, and I still don't. But it worked, Pony. I stopped crying and I fell asleep in his arms, right there. And I dreamt about him. And I woke up the next morning thinking about him. And then I kissed Steve and I pictured that I was kissing Tim. I don't…I don't know why it's happening. And I love Steve so much, but he just doesn't give me the same feeling that I get around Tim."

I gulped. No, this can't happen. As little as I knew Tim Shepard, I knew one thing about what he was doing: that whatever emotion he was trying to portray in front of Soda was totally fake. And Tim was going use him to make Steve jealous, I could tell. I would have told Soda right there, 'Tim is just playing you as a fool, don't believe a word he says' but as soon as I opened my mouth, Tim's whisper voice was heard from down the hill. "Hey, Sodapop! We found a dead fish over here, come and look at it!" Tim's voice wasn't hard, like it usually was. It was calm. And the way Soda's eyes glowed when he heard it made my words back up in my throat.

"There's my calling," Soda smiled at me. "Catch some Z's, Ponyboy. Tomorrow, we'll be in Decatur." He ruffed up my hair, and he knows I hate that, but I know that he only does it when he's in a good mood. He went down the hill, nearing a tiptoe when he passed the sleeping Two-Bit, Curly and Darry. Tim smiled when Soda got there. That's right: Tim Shepard smiled. Seeing this, two options popped into my mind. First, it was that Tim was going to break my brother's heart. And second was that Tim really _did_ like Soda a lot.

I wasn't sure which one I was scared of more.

* * *

**There you go. What do you think: is Tim really using Soda to make Steve jealous, or does he **_**actually**_** like Soda? Hmm...  
I love Tim's character. I just had to bring him back.**

**spicygurl: Are any of my review replies getting to you? Because I have a funny feeling that they aren't. I've replied to each and every one of your reviews, and if you're not getting them, go ahead and tell me. I can probably fix it. My buddies call my Superman for a reason! Well...maybe not for THAT reason...  
TheNightimeSky: You're a good reviewer...makes me happy. Just one thing: never ever ever call me a coward, that's something the really bothers me. I'm not mad or anything, but...scratch that - I AM kinda mad. Thanks for reviewing, but no more calling Mr. Wolf a coward, okay? Thank you. **

**-Subway**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay. This chapter puts Steve and Soda on the rocks, yet again. And then Curly meets someone he's never thought he'll ever meet. **

**Dally:**** When are you gonna kill someone off?****  
Me:**** I don't think I can tell you that…****  
Dally:**** You…you really ARE gonna kill someone off? Who? TELL ME!****  
Me:**** No. I'm not going to tell you. You're just going to have to read and figure out yourself.****  
Dally****: Since when can you tell me what to do? You don't own The Outsiders!****  
Me:**** You **_**died**_** in The Outsiders, buddy. And in this story, guess what? You're just as alive as I'm gonna make Buck Merril's fist to your face if you don't shut up. You're lucky I don't make you call me God in my story.****  
Dally****: [girly scoff] Whatever. [pause] Hey! Why did you write that down as a "girly" scoff? That's just rude!****  
Me****: Because that's what it sounded like. [laughs] I'm a writer, I gotta write things down as I hear them. And when I heard that, I pictured a bitchy teenage girl.****  
Dally****: Like Angela Shepard?****  
Tim****: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY, WINSTON?****  
Dally****: [smiles innocently] Hi, Tim! **

**Hopefully, it turns out to be an argument minus the blades and bloodshed. Here's the chapter. **

**-Subway****

* * *

SODA'S POV **

When I woke up, I saw that I was the meat in a Tim and Sodapop sandwich. They both had their arms wrapped around me. I was afraid that, if I moved, that I would wake them both up, so I lay there for a few minutes until I noticed that I had to pee. I held that in for a while, and then got anxious, so I considered waking them up, but when I saw how warm and comfortable Steve was, I really couldn't help it but to sit there a little longer.

Two-Bit was up as well, and he walked over and looked down at me, and then laughed. I squinted my eyes angrily at him. He just continued laughing, and then, after he got his fill of amusement, kicked Tim in the ribs to wake him up.

Tim swore at him, his eyes still closed, but then realized that he was snuggling with me and then blushed and scrambled away. Two-Bit and I laughed at him, and then Tim got up and went to the bathroom. I went to do the same, and Steve didn't wake up for a while later. He was still sleeping when Darry woke up, our trip immediately on his mind.

"Morning, Steve," Darry said to him as he washed his muddy shoes off in the lake. "Do you want to go get the car? We'll meet you on the street up there," Darry pointed to the direction up towards the hill. "And by the way, I'm not taking no for an answer."

Steve frowned. "Why can't _you_ do it?" he whined, obviously still tired.

"Because I've been doing all the driving, and one of y'all has to do _some_ of the work around here, right?" He threw the keys at Steve's chest and he reluctantly caught them.

Darry was right, and Steve knew it. Steve started sulking in the direction of the car, and then he called out to me, "Hey, Sodapop, you wanna come with?"

I, at the moment, was picking all of the burrs out of my pants. I looked at Tim, who nodded reassuringly, and then motioned for me to go. Reluctantly, I stood up and followed Steve.

We didn't walk for too long, when I spotted a small rowboat and we went over to go examine it. It was small, wooden, and the green paint was chipping off, but it had both oars and there were no holes in it. "Looks stable enough," I told Steve, and then he pushed it into the water and we went inside.

"You take one of these...um…things," Steve instructed, staring puzzled-like at the oar. "And I'll row the other. Okay?"

I didn't respond, just did as I was told. We rowed for a while and Steve kept complaining how cold he was last night and how uncomfortable it was and how little sleep he got. It was thoroughly boring. I almost dropped the oar in the water, and this caused a reaction from Steve.

"Damn, you're doing it wrong," he said, looking pretty pissed off. "Just like everything else you do…" he said that last part quietly as if he didn't want me to hear him, but I did. At first, I thought he was making a joke or something, but he wasn't.

"Excuse me?" I asked him, so amazed that I wasn't sure if I could ever speak again.

He looked at me, and then looked back onto the lake. "Nothing. Anyways, so there was this damn goose honking all night and I wanted to kill the thing-"

"No," I cut him off. "You didn't say 'nothing'. I'm pretty sure I heard _something_." He looked at me like he didn't know what I was talking about. "Don't bullshit me, Steve."

He scoffed, annoyed. "You heard what I said, so there ain't no reason for me to repeat myself, is there?"

I could not believe that this was happening. Just when I was starting to forgive him, he goes right back at it again. We were okay just last night, and kissing. How did it end up like this? "Don't talk to me like that." I warned him, even though it wasn't all that much of a threat.

"Hm? Last time I checked, this was America…" I think it was supposed to be a joke but I didn't take it that way. This was leading up to be another one of those fights, and this time, Steve was completely sober. That's what scared me.

"What the hell is your problem? Do you have a problem with me or something? 'Cause, if you do, just tell me. I don't wanna fight with you, even though I know I'm going to win."

"No, I don't have a problem with you, and ain't a chance that you're going to win a fight with me. No way. I've been through this one _many_ times." We reached the end of the lake, and Steve tossed the oar in the boat and then got out, trudging through the water, and not even bothering to help me.

"I can tell," I said sarcastically. "And what do you mean by 'this one'?" I questioned, helping myself out of the boat and following behind Steve to the empty lot.

"I've been in this fight before. When the lovers get tired of each other, then they fight about stupid things." I almost laughed at this, but I contained myself. I caught up to him and walked beside him. He didn't look at me, but just kept walking forward.

"First of all, you're the one that started it. And second, since when are we lovers? I didn't get the memo, sorry."

He looked at me briefly, but then continued speedwalking angrily towards the car, which came into view, and looked intact. "Oh, you're right, what am I saying? Why would a guy like me be going out with a pussy like you? I stand corrected." What a guy.

We got to the car, and he hopped in, not even making eye contact. I opened the door and sat down, shutting the door behind me. The seats were wet and I could feel the puddle going through my pants. I pretended not to notice. "'A guy like you'? You mean a dirty cheater? Oh, you're right! Why would _he_ go out with _me_?

He snapped, "I am _not_ cheater!" He seemed to get defensive. He started the car and then pulled onto the road.

"Are you kidding me? You've been with Tim for such a long time, and then you start it up with me and I didn't know, and Tim didn't know. Once a cheater, always a cheater, Stephen! And maybe you're too much of a pussy to admit it!" That was golden right there. I was actually proud of myself for thinking it up that quickly. But I felt kind of bad that I called him out like that, and I thought to myself, _if there's a cure, he's found it._

Steve just sat there, looking very upset, with his jaw clenched and both hands gripped tightly on the wheel. I thought he was going to hit me or something. But, thankfully, he didn't. "Don't start with me, Soda," he warned. "You don't have your puppy guard dog Tim to back you up this time."

I ignored what he said. "You know I'm right. It was wrong for you to do that, and I don't remember you apologizing! I thought you were my friend, Steve, and then you go around and treat me like a bag of shit!" I was surprised at myself for suddenly telling Steve everything bad I thought of him. I really thought he was an amazing person. And I loved him more than anything.

That comment didn't help his attitude. "On the roof, I was just telling you what I really think about you."

There were hot tears of anger swelling up in my eyes. "Asshole, I'm the one sitting here with your blood all over my goddamned shirt!"

That shut him up. He parked the car, and got out. At first, this confused me, but then I saw the rest of the gang getting inside. I wiped my eyes quickly, not wanting to show Darry, Pony, or Tim that I was crying. Darry sat down next to me and started the car. Steve sat in the back seat. A thick silence in the car ensued when Darry started driving. I saw Steve in the rear-view mirror and he had his arms crossed like a little four year-old. I rolled my eyes, but then noticed that I was doing the same thing.

"What's the matter with _you_ two?" Darry asked, confused by the silence.

"Nothing!" Steve and I both spat out in unison. We gave each other death looks through the mirror, and then looked away and continued pouting.

"Okay then…" Darry didn't look like he wanted to get involved. "I'm going to look for a restaurant." Thank God for that. All this yelling was making me hungry.

It didn't take us long until we found a place to eat. It was a run-down Chinese place with white stone walls and neon lights that said something in a different language. There were no other cars in the parking lot, so we thought it wasn't open. We went inside and a short, old, Chinese lady sat us down with a big smile on her face. The other boys were looking at her as if they've never seen an Asian person in their lives. I didn't think that they have, though. There isn't much diversity in Tulsa.

She gave us a booth to sit in, and I ended up sitting next to Pony on the inside closest to the wall, and I was sitting directly across from Steve. He and I gave each other dirty looks as Darry ordered us all a Coke and an order of fried rice. We couldn't break the bank.

Curly thankfully started conversation. "So do you think Dallas is still around?" At the sound of Dally's name, I couldn't hold my cold stare with Steve. Our gaze broke, and I looked down at my Coke and then took a sip of it. The Chinese lady, with that smile still glued onto her face, gave us all our plates of rice. Two-Bit started to eat it up eagerly. Darry and Tim ate it more slowly. Pony and Curly stared at it like it was a pile of shit on their plate.

Steve answered Curly. "I doubt it," he said, and he was right, even though I didn't want to admit that. "I doubt he was even here in the first place."

I glared at him. "Are you second-guessing me?"

"Yeah, I am," he said, not really caring. "I don't know why we even believe you in the first place."

I got defensive. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I can't name one time that I've ever lied to you, Steve. Or anybody here, for that matter. And you oculdn't say that for yourself, could you?"

He ignored what I said. "I didn't say that you _lied_," Steve said, "I just wonder why we would believe a dumb assumption like that. Well, I wouldn't expect much else from you…"

"Steve, shut your trap," Tim said, his mouth full, and he seemed annoyed already. He swallowed his food, and then scolded, "Soda, you too. This is pointless."

"He fuckin' deserves it…" Steve said to me more than to Tim.

I wanted to slap him. Maybe punch him in the face. Or both, preferably at the same time. "God damnit, Steve, you are _such_ a fucking asshole!"

"Hey!" Tim scolded, "Both of you! Cut it out! You're actin' like children!"

Maybe I really _did_ need my "puppy guard dog" during times like these. Without Tim by my side, Steve and I would likely have killed each other by now. Steve didn't make eye contact anymore. He just kept silently shoving spoonfuls of rice into his mouth as if his life depended on it. I looked down to see all of my rice was gone. It wasn't much food, but it stuck to my sides and I was full.

Suddenly, the Chinese lady was back, with the check in her hand. She smiled wide at us and waited for Darry to gather enough money out of his pocket to pay for the ten dollars worth of food. It took a while for him to muster the cash, and he was two dollars short. Darry swore silently, and then explained to the lady why we didn't have enough money. He told her about Dally, James, the robbery, and everything else.

After Darry was done explaining, the Chinese lady said with a very heavy accent, "If I give you 15 dollars, will you go across the street to the mall and buy some new clothes?" She made a disgusted face at Pony's shirt and Darry's pants.

"Y-…yes, ma'am," Darry said, baffled.

She handed him the money, and then, with the smile back, said, "Good luck finding your friend," and bowed, turned around, and walked away.

"Yes, ma'am!" Darry shouted after her, "Thank you, ma'am!" I guess that gave us 28 dollars. We all stared at the bills as if they were the most amazing thing on the planet, and then we were off.

**STEVE'S POV**

While we were all at the mall, I stood in the back, not saying anything. There was so much on my mind about Soda that my head hurt. I didn't mean to yell at him like that, even though eavesdropping on he and Pony's conversation probably triggered it. I couldn't believe that Tim was flirting with Soda like that. I wasn't about to ask Tim about it, and I didn't want to ask Soda about it either, though I should have. Instead, I just made Soda and I more pissed off at each other than we already were. I still don't know why I did. I had to apologize, I knew it, but I had no clue how. He probably hated me. Hell, I didn't blame him. Soda said it right: I was an asshole.

I was talking to Two-Bit about it. I didn't know why I talked to him in particular. He had never been very good of a listener and not even that great of a friend of mine. But he was there, he had ears, and I had too much on my mind to contain. "I feel so bad about what I said to Soda…he means a lot to me and I don't like seeing him hurt or upset. I heard what Soda said about Tim, how Soda was picturing him when we were kissing, and maybe that ignited something, you know? Maybe I was a little jealous. I yelled at him about it, but I didn't even mention once what I heard Soda say about Tim, which is weird to me. I think that I'm taking the fact that Soda wants to be with me so much for granted. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Two-Bit said, not even bothering to add more.

Any usual time, this careless type of statement would get on my nerves, but today, it didn't. I just pointlessly continued. "Maybe I don't care about the Soda and Tim thing. I think it's kind of a lie. You know, I've loved him ever since I could remember. Soda, I mean. Hell, I've loved him even before I knew that I loved him. And less then twenty-four hours that I told him how I felt about him, I go along and screw it up again."

"Yeah," Two-Bit said, peering into the glass case of where the switchblades were held. I doubted that he was even listening to me, but I still continued.

"I wish I could just go and apologize to him. But I think I screwed up too much for him to accept an apology, or at least for a little while. And I wouldn't know what to say, anyways. I think I've hurt him too much."

"Yeah."

I sighed, awfully aggravated at this point in the conversation. "Damnit, Two-Bit, are you even listening to me?" He looked at me, his eyebrow cocked in an 'I don't know what you're talking about' kind of way. I frowned at him. "You know, you haven't been the same since Dally took off. What's the matter with you?"

He blinked. "Dally took my blade."

I laughed, thinking he was joking. When he didn't laugh with me, I glanced at him, and he was looking at me with a straight face. So he _wasn't_ joking. "Oh." There was a bit of silence between us. I thought a lot about what Two-Bit had said, and I became awfully surprised once I realized that he'd never mentioned it before. Two-Bit, the biggest complainer and blabbermouth out of all of us was keeping his is problems to himself. Then there's me, yapping away all of my troubles like I'm some sort of girl. It embarrassed me a little. I've never asked Two-Bit was wrong, even though I'd noticed he wasn't his normal cheery self. I knew how much that switchblade meant to Two-Bit, and I felt kind of bad that I had never asked.

I wanted to say something to comfort him but before anything came to mind, Two-Bit spoke to me. "Steve, I think you should tell Soda everything you just told me." He paused as I stared at him. "If you can tell _me_ those kinds of things, you can tell Sodapop. He's not going to be mad at you forever. Eventually, he'll break, come crawling back to you. But if you act first, then he'll be all over you, and he'll know for sure that you love him. Sodapop doesn't hold grudges, Steve. You should know that by now."

Everything that Two-Bit said made perfect sense, which was something new. I don't think I've ever heard Two-Bit talk like that. I smiled at him anyways. "Thanks, Two-Bit. You're a good friend." A sudden flush of confidence came over me and I turned to go and find Soda.

"Don't hurt yourself," Two-Bit called out after me.

I spotted Soda in a record shop a few stores away from where Two-Bit and I talked. He was aimlessly flipping through records with his fingers. I stood behind him and he didn't turn to face me.

I decided I would just talk. "Soda…I'm really sorry about what I said to you."

He didn't say anything, just continued to flip through the disks like I wasn't even there.

Hoping that he really was listening to me, I continued anyway. "I don't know what got into me. I know that I lied to you about Tim, and I regret it more than anything. I love you, Soda. More than cars, even. I really want to-"

I was cut off at the feel of Sodapop's lips being pressed to my own. I kept my eyes open and stared at his squeezed-shit closed eyelids, utterly amazed, but then I fell into the kiss and my eyes fluttered shut. Luckily the store was empty, or else we would have been getting strange looks from everyone. I hoped that Tim wasn't in the same store, or else he probably would have beat the shit out of me, and Soda and I would go through the fighting all over again.

But I didn't want to think about that. I hated to think about that stuff. It bored me. Soda's tongue was sweet between my lips, and that's all I wanted to think about. That's all I _needed_ to think about. Soda was my human angel and nobody, not even Tim, could change that.

* * *

**So there you go, Soda is too madly in love with Steve to account for anything that happened between them. They go so well together. But you gotta feel bad for poor Two-Bit, missing his blade. I'd be pissed if that blade was mine. **

**-Subway**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's a chapter in which we focus in on Curly Shepard a lot. He tells most of this story, but first, we'll catch up on Two-Bit. And I'm going to tell you this for no other reason other than I feel like it, but: my friend and I were watching an Emilio Estevez movie, Young Guns (one of my favorite films) and he was like "Holy sh*t, that guy is short!" so we looked it up online, and Estevez is 5'4! That's like...dwarf! Heck, I'm 18 and I'm 6 feet tall! So in the story, since Estevez plays Two-Bit (you all should know that), I made Mr. Mathews pretty short. Maybe not as short as Estevez himself, but short enough. Sorry I'm blabbering on and on about this. I just felt like telling y'all.  
**

**Dally****: Hey, Zack! Speaking of Two-Bit...tell him that his blade is really nice.****  
Me****: Do you want me to apologize for you, too? Because I can just as easily do that.****  
Dally****: Apologize? Why would I want to apologize?****  
Me****: Well…because he's been feeling awfully empty without that blade. He gave it to you to borrow, and now you're halfway across the country with it. I mean, at least you could have left it at his house before you ran off.****  
Dally****: I needed a weapon to protect myself. And the blade seemed like the perfect choice for a guy like me.****  
Me****: What about your heater? Couldn't you just use that?****  
Dally****: That's just a toy gun. It ain't loaded.****  
Me****: Well, why don't you load it?****  
Dally****: Too late. Hey, any tips on how to sharpen a switchblade? Your old man gave you one right before he died, didn't he? A ten-incher, like the one I've got.****  
Me****: Yes. How do you know?****  
Dally****: It says it on your profile.****  
Me****: What...why...when...? Dallas, how in the _world _did you access my profile?****  
Dally****: Again, I have my ways. [high-fives Buck Merril]**

**-Subway ****

* * *

TWO-BIT'S POV**

When Steve left, I sped up my pace to walk next to Darry. He turned around at the notion that someone had followed him, and then broke into a smile once he saw that it was me. I stood up on my tip-toes to kiss him. It was warm and sloppy, just the way I like it. I pulled away. "Damnit, Darrel," I pouted at him, "Can't you squat down or something? I can barely reach you."

I looked at me for a little bit, and then lifted me up. I threw my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. "That better?" He asked, smiling. He didn't give me much time to reply anyways, because he kissed me again.

Being with Darry was freaking amazing. We were downright perfect for each other, despite the fact that we were polar opposites. Darry is cold, stoic, and always busy. At the same time, I'm carefree, unemployed, and I have a hella good sense of humor. Maybe I was what he needed. He needs some love in his life, since it's been absent ever since his parents died. I was more than happy to give it to him.

I wasn't all that sure how it started…mine and Darry's relationship, I mean. It just…happened. I woke up next to him, and I didn't really feel hung-over and I knew Darry didn't drink, so I still don't know much about what happened. But we've been with each other tons of times after that and I love it. He's the biggest guy I've ever seen, in more ways than one. He's so gentle, too. You wouldn't expect it because he looks like he can rip a car in half, but it's true. He treats me like I'm some sort of glass; like if he touches me too hard, I'll shatter. And lucky he isn't very rough will me, because that guy is so huge he'd probably hit my prostate like a golf ball and whack it right out of my mouth. I guess that I'm quite the opposite in that sense. I'm forceful and awfully noisy, and I tend to make animal-type growls when I'm doing it. The one time he let me be on top, he let me do my business for only a little while before pulling me out of him and finishing the job himself. I got mad at him and I would have yelled if I weren't screaming his name in pleasure like I usually did. It makes me laugh, because whenever I do that, Darry freaks out and puts his hand over my mouth and tells me to shut up before Pony or Sodapop hear us.

I love being with Darry. It's downright amazing. I'm cocksure that I'm in love with him, but I'm not about to tell him because I knew that he would freak out. So I took it slow. And I'm sure that it's better that way.

He peeled me off of him but was still kissing me, and then picked me up and held me bridal style in his arms. While doing this, he managed to keep his sweet tongue in my mouth the entire time. I was thrilled that there wasn't anybody around us, as they would have freaked out. Hell, even if there were people around, I still wanted him to kiss me. If they commented, I'd just give them the finger.

I pulled away from him and smiled into his granite, blue-green eyes. I chuckled inwardly, "You're such a damn show-off."

**CURLY'S POV**

There weren't a lot of people in the mall, since it had just opened, but the people that were there didn't like us Greasers. They kept giving us funny looks, like we were aliens or something, and that really bothered me. The people there all dressed, smelled, and looked like Socs. I tried to ignore the you're-a-delinquent-and-I-don't-like-you looks and just kept calm by talking to Pony.

"Where did you get the blade from?" I asked Pony as we took ours out and examined them. That really didn't help the Socy people's opinions of us.

Pony took a long glance at his and then put it away. "Johnny Cade gave it to me. In a note he wrote to me, just before he died," he said slowly, his hand still grasped around the switch in his pocket. He looked pained to talk about it.

I wasn't good at consoling, so I didn't attempt it. Instead, I said something stupid, as usual. "It's a nice one," I commented, and nearly wanted to kick myself. That was so dumb of a thing to say. Of course, Ponyboy didn't even reply.

I sighed and put my blade away as well. _Congratulations, Curly Shepard, you just fucked up another conversation with the guy that you like. That guy being most gorgeous boy with the most beautiful eyes in the whole world. You're a real winner, Curly Shepard. Your sex magnet of a brother would be very proud, you inexperienced, lackluster virgin. _

Curtis was looking at me, like he was examining me. I didn't look at his face to see if he were angry or not, but I was thinking over and over again in my head that Curtis was trying to pick a fight with me. I told myself that Pony wouldn't do anything like that to me, but I could sense some sort of mysterious tension in the air and I couldn't help it but to think about that. I gulped, seeing as, after a long while Pony was still looking at me. I pretended not to notice, but I couldn't help it.

I turned, and our eyes met. His beautiful, faded green gems, and my icy blue, daunting balls of fire. His eyes were absolutely amazing compared to mine. My eyes were like Frank Sinatra would be if he were to go on a cold-blooded serial killing spree. Ponyboy's were like rolling green meadows that were dusted with snow. I hated to see the pained look in those eyes, especially since I caused it. I frowned. "I'm sorry," I said, pretty embarrassed. "I didn't know!"

"No," he said, smiling calmly, and the hurt look was gone in those fanatical eyes. "I ain't upset with you."

I was relieved that he wasn't angry, but still pretty damn confused. "Well then…why are you looking at me like that?"

He smiled, showing his teeth now. He shrugged. "I can't help it." His cheeks were pink.

Before I could ask him what in the world he meant by that (I didn't know), we spotted the rest of the gang and Sodapop frantically motioned for us to come over. Worried that something was wrong, we ran over there.

When we reached them, I saw Two-Bit wasn't there, and Darry and Steve and Soda and Tim were paying attention to something in the distance. "Uh, where's Mathews?" I asked, looking at Tim, who had a blazing fire in his eyes, angrier than normal. In the same moment, I searched for the cause of this, and saw Steve and Soda, hand-in-hand. I gulped.

Nobody had any time to reply because Two-Bit came over by us and spoke frantically, "Those dudes over there, they own a bar and they say Dally was over there last night and he said he was going to Chicago," Mathews paused. "Do you think that's true?"

"Yeah," Pony said, remembering something. "That's where his mom lives. She moved there after she divorced her dad."

Without any objections or second guesses, we were in the car, off to Chi-town.

The very second we reached the crowded city of Chicago, we were running on our last drops of gas. Darrrel was trying to run it as dry as possible so we wouldn't waste any money. It had to have been around nine by then. We ended up pulling to a DX, of course. This one was better-looking than Steve and Soda's, probably because of the new paint job. As Darry pumped the gas, Pony and I went inside to get something to drink.

"This city is huge," I pointed out to Ponyboy as we paid for the drinks. "We're never going to find Dally in this place."

"Come on, Curly," he countered me even though he knew I was right. "We'll find him. Just keep on keepin' on. We got to find him…we just gotta!"

"I know Dallas Winston, and he is a master of disguise like no other. Even if we _do_ end up finding him, it's going to take a while. Like…_days_, even."

"Dallas Winston?" The cashier interrupted, "You two know him?" The cashier was probably in his forties, and he was short and square-faced man with the same eye and hair color that I had. His eyes were big and glowing like a little kid's would be, but they had this rigid determination in them that was utterly familiar. His name tag read "John" in black, capital letters, and his green DX shirt was just tight enough so I could see his huge, built arms.

Pony and I stared at him for a little bit until I mustered up the confidence to reply. "Why? Do _you_ know him?"

He nodded quickly.

"What's your name?" I asked him, looking him over.

"John," he said eagerly, "John Shepard. I've lived in Chicago for about seventeen years and I know this town inside and out."

I stared at him. He couldn't be who I thought he was…could he? "Do you know…Cynthia Shepard?" I asked him nervously.

He turned a light shade of pink. "I…uh…used to. Why, do you know her?" After I nodded, he got frantic and slightly nervous, "Does she talk about me? Did she ask for me?"

My heart sunk. "Um, Mr. Shepard, she's my mom."

A genuine fear spread across his face and he looked me over. After a few long seconds of this, he whispered nervously, almost to quiet for me to hear, "Z-…Zachary?"

I looked at my feet. "Hi, dad." I haven't seen my dad since I was little and I vaguely remembered him. He ran off right after Angela was born, and I haven't seen him since. Now he was here, working at a gas station in downtown Chicago. Just as I expected.

"Oh, Zachary, I can…explain…"

I looked at him coldly. "People call me Curly." I paused and then I him the 'go ahead' look.

"I left you and your mother because I wanted to become a doctor. I couldn't pay for both school and my family so I…chose what would help me in the long run," John seemed uncomfortable talking about it, like he regretted it almost. "I couldn't make enough money to provide for myself once I got here in Chicago so I joined a local gang. I've become one of the most respected members, maybe because I'm an old man, I don't know. I know it's wrong, but I have no other choice."

"Well I'm in a gang, too. In Tulsa." As I explained this to him, John looked amazed. "Tim is the leader. I don't think it's wrong. I think it's utterly amazing and it's the only family that I've got." I paused as he took this in. "That doctor thing didn't work out for you much, did it?"

"No. It was, of course, the wrong decision, because I still love you, Angela, Tim, and your mother. I think about you guys every day. How big of a mistake I've made. I'm sorry."

I saw Pony looking at me, as if he wanted to scream, 'forgive him!' but he didn't. And I didn't forgive my dad, or at least not verbally. I blinked. "You know where Dallas Winston is, Dad?" Shoot, I just called him dad. No turning back now. My fake anger was officially over.

John held back a smile. "I do. I…was just recruiting a young kid for the gang, and we used Mr. Winston as bait. It was a… bad idea. The kid got as far as stealing his wallet, and then Dallas took it out on him and bolted. I saw him go right down the street, into the Cubby Bear. Just five minutes ago."

"Thanks. Goodbye." I turned around, making sure to grab the Cokes, and made my way to the door confidently.

"Hey," my Dad called from behind me. I turned to see what he wanted. "I love you. And tell your mother that, too." I nodded and went to the car, Pony following close behind.

I tried not to think about what had just happened. We had more important things to take care of. "Dally's at the Cubby Bear down the street," I told Tim as I sit in the seat next to him. "Right now."

Thankfully not asking any questions, Tim started the car, and we only drove for twenty seconds until we reached the facility. The parking spaces we all filled so we parked on the side of the road. We got inside and we could barely move without getting bumped into or shoved around. It was very uncomfortable at the stench burned at my nose, but it looked like Dally's kind of place.

Two-Bit swore, obviously intimidated by the crowd of people. "Y'all are _sure_ Dally's in here?" After realizing nobody was going to reply, Two-Bit continued, "Where should we start?" I gave him a dirty look, as if to say, 'don't even think about it.' If he mentioned one thing that had to remotely do with beer, I was going to kill him. I think Two-Bit noticed, because he shut up.

"Well, I think we should ask somebody," suggested Soda calmly.

The five of us walked up to the bartender, who was currently filling a glass with beer from the tap, and Steve asked him slowly, "Excuse me, sir, have you seen a guy with whitish-blonde hair, blue eyes…um, he's about this tall-" Steve held a hand over his own head for an example, "-and he has a New York accent?"

The bartender stared at us, and then replied. "Sorry; we don't give out information to…" he looked us over with a disgusted look on his face, "…non-locals." The way he looked at us made me want to slit his throat. Most of us were good people underneath all of this grease. We couldn't help it if a reputation and a blade was the one thing that protected us in our own territory.

Steve stared at him dumbly, but, with his facial expression tried to remain at least a little bit tough. "Um…" he couldn't grasp the right words to say. There he goes again: snapping under the pressure.

Soda stepped in, not enjoying seeing the worry in Steve's eyes. "Come on, man, we need to know if he was here or not."

"Did you _not_ hear him?" A voice said from behind us. We turned around to see another drunk there with his gang. His lips were puckered as if he were in a bad mood. He had a strong jaw line with a short, stubble beard growing on the edges. He had chubby cheeks and red-rimmed glasses, and his light brown eyes were squinted behind them. He had greased, jet black hair that was flowing in a mixture of curls and spikes; a style that I've never seen before. He was my height and he had wide shoulders with square hips and muscles, but not as much as Darry.

When we all turned to look at him, he looked us over and realized how out-of-place we were. "You all don't belong here. This is _our_ territory. You're far out of _yours_." He turned and spoke to a tuff-looking, seasoned blonde guy behind him, "Look at these guys. They're half a gang, if you ask me. They don't even look the part." He smiled – he had perfect, white teeth – but the smirk had a hint of wickedness weaved into it. Maybe we didn't look like a gang because we weren't one. Tim and I were part of a separate outfit than the rest of them.

I stared at him as threateningly as I possibly could, but Darry was the one who spoke. "Leave us alone, kid. And mind your own business." Darry seemed ticked off by this guy. I didn't blame him; the guy seemed like one that wasn't Darry's type.

"Oh!" the guy exclaimed sarcastically, "I guess I didn't get to introduce myself! I'm Andrew Garcia, and I've pleasured every woman within 25 miles of the floor you are currently standing on, because I own this city. Oh, by the way; who in God's name do you think you are, to talk to me like that?" He was talking to Darry now. Andrew spat out the words like venom.

Tim stepped in, and got majorly defensive. "Buddy, just stand clear of my gang or I swear to you, I'll give you a thorough beating for it." It shook me up pretty badly that Tim referred to all of us as his gang. We weren't in the same gang, did Tim forget that? I thought for a moment that he may have been submitting to just me, but Tim was standing partially in front of Sodapop, who looked a little bit more comfortable with my brother as his bodyguard. "I'll take those faggy glasses off of your huge head and shove them up your head, you hear me?"  
I smiled, half amused in Tim's warning and half interested in the intimidated look on Andrew's face. My brother was bigger than him. But Andrew seemed smart: he should know better than to mess with a guy like Tim Shepard. Andrew tried to keep his cool. "Well, whatever," he stammered. "Just get the hell out of here. You're officially on my nerves now. Get out before I slash your throats."

"Leave us the hell alone, our business ain't yours."

Alcohol on his breath, Andrew stepped forward, looking wild-eyed and in fighting stance with his fists clenched. "You looking for a fight?"

I slid my hand down to my switchblade as I watched Andrew reach down into his pocket, probably for his. I did not want to get into another fight like we did back in Topeka, and especially if we were on the wrong side of it. I saw Pony uncharacteristically getting up in another guys face, also looking for a fight. Pity Tim; if Ponyboy got hurt, I knew that I was going to take some responsibility for it. Seeing Pony go all tough guy, I got this weird feeling that I was being a bad influence on Pony, which was quite the opposite of what I had intended to do on the trip (I wanted his knowledge to rub off on _me _some). So I knew that if Pony got hurt, it would be my fault. Although Pony was much more smarter than I was, I suddenly felt this weird need to take care of him as if he were my kid. I couldn't stand him getting hurt.

Worrying so hard, I completely zoned out the words exchanged between Andrew and Tim. I looked up, and everyone was now on the wrong end of a fist. I leaped into action, flipping out my blade and running towards the nearest enemy, just like I'd been told. But before I could reach the kid, something heavy hit me across the head and the world around me faded to black.**  
**

* * *

**Damn Curly acting on impulse again…he's getting himself hurt. Why does my favorite character always have to do shit like that? I'm going to need to have a word with the original author…XD  
And yes, the character "Andrew" is directly based off of the contestant from this past season of American Idol. I just thought he would fit the description well. And since I'm not smart enough to come up with an original name, I just used his.**

**Dally****: Woah! Zack! Hold on! What happened?****  
Me****: Dally, you're supposed to talk at the beginning, not the ending. Anyways…Curly got knocked out. Couldn't you tell?****  
Dally****: No, I ain't asking about Curly! Screw him! I'm talking about the two oversized lovebirds. Since when are Two-Bit and Darry with each other?****  
Me****: Um…since a while. I just left it out of the story.****  
Dally****: That ain't fair. This is America! We have a right to know when Darrel Curtis is dating Two-Bit Mathews!****  
Me****: Uh…yeah, and I have a right to keep it from you guys and then pull it out to surprise you.****  
Dally****: Well…it was quite a bombshell. I was really blown away. Damn.****  
Me****: Thanks, Dally! You're a great reviewer.****  
Dally****: That wasn't meant to be a compliment.****  
Me****: Yes it was. Thank you, Dal.****  
Dally****: [gives me middle finger] **

**TheNightimeSky: If I were "really fucking pissed off with you" I'm pretty sure you would have known. Texas boys have a hella hard time controlling their tempers! XD All the same, I think I should point it out to you now that you are the very first person I've ever known to have Steve as your favorite character. Hats off to you, buddy!  
spicygurl: Your self-called "babbling" is the best part of the review! It always makes my day. So when you find yourself going on about nothing, keep going on! I love it! XD Oh, and the fact that the previous chapter got you "misty-eyed" made me want to put on a party hat and do a dance. No offence to your misery, but I was happy about that! Yey for me!  
**

**TheNightimeSky AND spicygurl: I thought it was super hilarious that BOTH of you commented on how sexy I made Steve look! XD That really made me crack up. Girls will be girls, huh?  
**

**-Subway**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, so here, they're in the hospital. That shouldn't spoil it for you. You're smart enough to figure it out. But…how severe are the injuries?**

**Dally****: Hopefully someone died.****  
Me****: Why in the world would you say that?****  
Dally****: Because you guys are doing a terrible job finding me. You are all embarrassments to boy scouts.****  
Me:**** We're in the hospital. You think we can help it?****  
Dally:**** Man up and get outta there! I fought in a rumble was three broken ribs and a burnt arm. Have you ever done that?****  
Me:**** Um…I don't believe I have. Anyway, why can't you just let me do my job and post the story?**** Just ONE time.  
Dally:**** Because you're readers love me. [smiles charmingly] **

**-Subway****

* * *

PONY'S POV**

I opened my eyes to bright, fluorescent lights and a steady beeping noise. I was laying down on some sort of cot with thin, pearl white sheets over me.

I looked to my right, and saw Two-Bit. He was sitting on a fold-out chair and his feet were crossed and they were resting up on the bed I was on. His beard was shaved off, and his hair was fully greased. Two-Bit's arms were folded and he was sound asleep. I looked around more and saw plain white walls and white-tiled floors, so I came to the conclusion that I was at the hospital. I couldn't remember anything of why I was here. I stared at the heart monitor, and it beeped in a balanced rhythm. At least I wasn't dead.

I shuffled around, and immediately regretted it, for my ribs ached; sending a jolt of pain all throughout my body. I groaned in response.

"Pony! You're awake!" Two-Bit was up now, and he set his feet back onto the floor. His eyes were gleaming excitedly. He leaned forward and scooted his chair closer to my bed with a relieved smile on his face. "Do you feel alright?"

I smiled a little at the worry in his eyes. Despite how small it was, it was there. "Yeah, I think so. How long have we been here? What happened?"

"You got knocked out with a chair by one of Andrew's buddies. You've been unconscious for twelve whole years!" he exclaimed.

"_What?"_ I shouted, scared to death.

Two-Bit snickered in response. "Relax, Pone; I'm just kidding. You've been out of it for three days, don't get all worked up now!"

"Damnit, Two-Bit," I scolded him under my breath, trying hard to hide my amusement. "Is Darry okay?" I asked about my big brother first, which surprised me.

Two-Bit answered, "Him and Sodapop got kicked a lot, but they've gotten better over those three days, I promise. And Steve's okay, he's just staying with Sodapop."

My mind was racing. "What about Curly?" He came after my brothers. I liked Curly a lot – he was one of my best friends – but our relationship never really got up to the strength like mine and Johnny's, or at least up until now it hasn't. Since we left for the trip, Curly and I have gotten closer and closer, and I loved it. Curly was like my refuge. I knew that he would always be there for me. And, in turn I would be there for him. He was a broken stain glass window. He was proud, arrogant, and spiteful; he acted as if he were better than the person next to him. But I knew that he was hiding every single drop of emotion inside of him. Because of his brother, he had no other choice. Getting a rep was the most important thing to him and he wouldn't even get a mere scratch on the thing without getting defensive and crazy. I knew that, internally, Curly was a fragile person. I was strongly aware that I had feelings for him, but I knew that he would flip out of he found out, so that's why I didn't say anything. Curly was turning into the newest version of Johnny, and I knew that the last thing I wanted in life was to lose another one of my best friends. So right now, Curly's health and safety was more important than anyone else's in the world, even mine.

Two-Bit bit his lip like he knew it would upset me. "Curly got beat up badly. Curly's strong but Andrew was too fast for him. Andrew pulled a blade, too. And Tim got awfully mad, took it out on the guy, and landed that kid's ass in the hospital. The little Shepard had to go into surgery to fix it up."

"Is he awake? Can I talk to him? Where is he?" The questions came out rapid fire. I listened as the steady beep of the heart monitor got faster.

Two-Bit noticed. "Calm down. He's right over there."

I looked in the direction that Two-Bit pointed in and saw Curly. He was in a cot similar to mine, and his head was laid back on the pillow, and he was asleep. He looked exhausted, uncomfortable, sweaty, and in pain. It didn't sit well with me. I gulped, then turned back around to face Two-Bit. "Anything else happen while I was out of it?"

"Andrew stopped by yesterday morning. He's a really cool dude once you get to know him. He apologized over and over again, and he said he always acts like that when he's drunk. The guy even covered all of the bills. Oh yeah; and he told me to give this to you." Two-Bit rummaged through his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "It's ripped in half, though. But I didn't read it," he smiled nicely, "I promise."

I unfolded the note and read it. There was a big tear down the middle, however, and I could only make out half of the words.

_**The fuzz hates me here. I've always wanted to**_

_** -Dallas**_

Another note from Dally, but this one didn't help at all. The fuzz hated Dally everywhere. The second sentence probably would have given it away, but I only got the first four words out of it. Frustrated, I felt a painful need for a cigarette. I tossed the note at Two-Bit and he read it too. And we both had the same word running through our mind:

Shit.

**SODA'S POV**

I didn't like the hospital. It was cold and boring and there was absolutely no action. Ponyboy was in a separate room, and so was Darry. I was in some pain because a couple of my ribs got fractured and I got a huge cut by my ear. I also had a black eye.

Thank God Steve was with me. He kept me awake by talking to me. He told me everything from the time he first met Two-Bit to the day he got grounded and couldn't go to the dance in the 4th grade. As always, he was a brilliant story teller. He emphasized the best details and gave his opinion on every single action. I was thankful that Steve wasn't in that mood again and yelling at me. I hoped that would never happen again.

Steve was allowed to get out of his cot, but my ribs hurt and I still needed to take my stitches out so I still had to stay. Steve didn't really leave my side except for the times that he had to go to the bathroom. I wished that _I_ could get out of my cot and go to see Pony but I wasn't allowed to.

One afternoon, it was getting kind of late, and I guess that I was starting to doze off. Steve jumped into action. "Hey, Soda," he said softly, "You should get to sleep now."

"I'm not tired," I said sleepily. Steve was the only company I had and I was afraid that he would leave as soon as I fell asleep.

He smiled charmingly, and then held my hand and squeezed it tight. "I won't leave; I promise."

So he was pulling this off again. We fight and we break up. He flashes me that damned smile, and we're back together again. I rolled my eyes. This was _so_ ridiculous.

"What is that for?" he asked in some sort of amusement. "What did I do now?" He took his hand away, stood up, and then slid his fingers through the blinds and peered outside. "Wow, beautiful night outside."

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes again.

"What did I do?" he was still amused by the situation. "Why are you so pissed off?"

"Don't ask me why! You already know." I watched, aggravated, as Steve shook his head, as if to say, 'no I don't'. I eagerly mocked him, "I won't leave," I made a deeper voice, and held my own hand as he did, "I promise." I scoffed.

He turned to me, and smiled. "What, you need a full-frontal apology before I can go around and treat you nicely again? That's crazy talk." I didn't reply to him, and he continued looking out the window. "All good things will eventually come around, Sode. Maybe tonight, that's all truth," he shrugged, and looked at me again. "Maybe tonight, we'll find peace. God, I hope so..."

This was an important conversation, but I was too tired to deal with it. I fell asleep.

**PONYBOY'S POV**

The cycle of talking, sleeping, and talking some more continued for three days. Dr. Thomas gave me the OK after the second day, so I was allowed to get out of my cot and visit Soda and Steve. I was thrilled to see them after so long. Steve seemed okay; but he was nothing like his usual stoic and weathered self. He was energetic, talkative, and excited to see me, basically. I guess that's what a week alone with Sodapop Curtis can do to you. Soda, of course, was his normal self except that he had a black eye. Soda got the worst of the beating between the two of them, and he slept a lot and felt a bit more pain from the internal bleeding and all, but that didn't stop him from jumping almost clear out of his cot at the sight of me. I had a great time with them.

Curly was still hurting pretty badly, but he woke up to talk to me. Curly was really tired, and he slept and woke up on and off, so I didn't dare to waste the time I had with him. I would usually either fall asleep with him or just hold his hand or stroke his hair until he dozed off. It was really comforting, maybe more for myself than it was for Curly.

There was one time where Curly showed me the stitches he had along the side of his stomach. I smiled at the fact that he had a really nice body, but the stitches themselves weren't pretty. I joked with him that at least they didn't screw up his muscles, and he laughed. Laughing must have caused him some pain, because he tightened his grip on my hand. Curly Shepard is a strong man. I was almost certain that the bones in my hand were shattered, but thankfully they weren't. He tried to be Mr. Tough Guy and shrug it off like it was no big deal, but there was still that hint of pain in his beautiful blue eyes when he smiled at me. Of course, this didn't sit well with me. These back-and-forth flushes of pain must have exhausted him. I ended up twisting my fingers around locks of his curly hair (that of which became a hobby of mine very quickly) and telling him it was going to be okay until he fell asleep with his head on my shoulder.

On the third day, Tim, Curly, Two-Bit, and I were all sitting in my room when Dr. Thomas came in to check up on us. Dr. Thomas was a big man, almost like Paul mixed with Darry, but with white-blonde hair. He had huge hands the scared the life out of me, and a deep, powerful voice to match. He was honest, smart, and straightforward. When he came in to mine and Curly's room, there was a brown-haired nurse by his side. She talked to him as Dr. Thomas scanned his clipboard and looked Curly over.

"And what about that little girl, Megan?" Dr. Thomas asked. "Is she patched up from her fall?"

The nurse pulled out a piece of paper from a large stack of files she had in her arms. She skimmed the paper, and said quickly, "Nurse Hinton put the cast on this morning, and Megan will be leaving in a couple of hours."

"Good. What about that…_Winston_ kid?" The doctor said in disgust. "Austin, is it? No, Dallas was his name. Dallas Winston. Is _he_ gone yet?"

I looked at Curly in alarm, and he responded with wide eyes. Before the nurse could answer, I called out to Dr. Thomas, "_What_ about Dallas Winston?"

He and the nurse turned towards me, surprised. Dr. Thomas asked, "Uh…excuse me?"

I explained to him quickly, "Me, Sodapop and Stephen in the room to the left, Timothy and Zachary Shepard, and…Darrel and Keith…we've been looking for him." I didn't know how to explain. I also didn't know why I used everyone's full names. "Dallas is looking for me and we need to know where he is so we can stop him from…"

"Killing himself," said Two-Bit softly. My heart sank, realizing how correct Two-Bit was. I bit my lip. The thought didn't sit well with me.

Dr. Thomas stared at us dumbly. "Oh my. Well, if we would have known, we would have let Mr. Winston know that you all were here. My apologies."

"Why was he here?" Tim asked fearfully, as if Dally getting hurt was the absolute worst thing in the world to him.

"He got into a bar fight on the eighteenth." That was the same exact day that we got hurt. Six days ago. "He had some cracked ribs and a minor concussion, and-" he snatched a paper from the nurse, "-according to this form, we let him go last night." I contained an urge to swear, and Tim failed to do the same. Dr. Thomas continued, "If it helps, Mr. Winston was speaking of driving 'home,' he said, and mentioned New York. And, if he drives, that would take two days. If you all can catch a flight, could make it there possibly before he does."

"Can we leave?" I asked eagerly, "Are Zachary, Darrel, Stephen, and Sodapop healthy enough?" I was still unsure why I used everyone's full first name.

Dr. Thomas nodded. "That's the reason I came in here in the first place. You can all get dressed, and then leave once you are ready. I wish you all the best of luck."

"Thank you, Dr. Thomas," Two-Bit, Tim, Curly, and I replied in unison.

Within twenty minutes, all of us were properly dressed and out the door. In the car, Tim explained to Steve, Two-Bit, Darry, and Soda what Dr. Thomas said.

"Hey Muscles, how much money we got?" Steve asked.

Darry, not offended, started the car and then dug through his pockets. He came out with a fistful of bills, and after counting them quickly, said dejectedly, "15 dollars." He paused, and then added, "Nowhere near enough to buy plane tickets."

We sat there, deflated, until Curly spoke again. "Darrel. I need you to drive down this road until you hit the 'Pastoral Artisan Cheese Shop'. I can get us some money."

"The _cheese_ shop?" Soda must have thought that it was a joke. "Why the cheese shop?"

Curly was staring straight ahead, and he had those squinted eyes that he had whenever he was in deep thought or when he was recalling something. "I've got some business to take care of."

"Damnit, Curly, don't you start anything," I scolded him. "Just take the money and bolt."

Darry continued driving, but I could tell he wanted to pull over. "We're _robbing_ the place? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"How the hell else are we going to get the cash?" Curly snapped, which didn't really surprise me, even though nobody talks to Darry like that. "You heard the doctor. This is our last chance to catch Dally. If we ain't gonna get this money, we might not see him again." Curly zipped up his jacket, preparing for the heist, and not taking no for an answer.

Darry swore under his breath as we pulled in the front of the store. Darry was obviously hesitant about the situation, and I didn't blame him: I was feeling equally regretful. I didn't want Curly to get hurt. What if the store owner had a heater?

"Curly. I'm comin' with you." I didn't know who said that, and got afraid that I was the one who said it. But I wasn't the one. Tim was.

With a nod, Curly jumped out of the car, Tim right behind. They took a deep breath, shoved their blades in their jacket pockets in unison, and casually strolled into the building.

We all sat there silently in the car, with the suspense already eating away at us. The shop's windows were tinted, so we couldn't see at thing. A full minute passed and I was getting kind of worried. Thankfully, the fuzz hadn't shown yet, so I knew the Shepard's hadn't been caught. Tim was smart, so I knew he was doing whatever he thought was best.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and the brothers ran towards the car, with the cash. Tim shouted for Darry to drive, so Darrel quickly obliged as soon as the brothers hopped into the seat next to me.

We drove and I counted the money. "Seven hundred dollars? Damn, Curly!" I smiled at him, and he smiled back that classy smile of his. "That should be more than enough." I was interrupted by the blare of police sirens from behind us.

"Floor it, Darrel," Tim commanded, and Darry didn't think twice before we were speeding through the empty, late night Chicago streets. The cops kept up, however. We swerved onto a side road, away from the city.

Suddenly, a large, orange, clunker of a pickup truck pulled up next to us, keeping the same speed. We all looked at it funny, obviously confused. We had to be going at least 80 miles per hour. What was this guy's problem?

A man with sunglasses peeked his head out the window. "Pull over. I can help you," he said straightforwardly and in the same southern accent that we all had. His front teeth were missing and he had blonde hair.

"Who the hell are you?" Tim asked out of the passenger seat, slightly suspicious. We all were.

"Pull over in this next parking lot. I ain't no cop. Ya know that, Tim." Tim seemed completely confused that this mystery man knew his name. But as the sirens inched closer, we all knew that this man was our only hope. The pub was quickly approaching, and Tim nudged Darry, signaling him to oblige to the blonde guy. Darry pulled over into the lot, with the orange pickup right behind. We sat there on the far side the building and waited silently until the sirens got louder and then faded again.

The man got out of his car, and stood with his back against the metal door. He took off his sunglasses, and I felt a flush of identification as he approached our car.

"_Buck_?" Tim said in utter disbelief. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Savin' your asses," Merril said simply, a whistling noise coming out of his mouth at every word with an 's' in it. "I'll drive yer car, Darrel. If the cops catch me, I'll take the blame. Use my buddy's car to get to the airport. If I don't get busted, I'll drive yer car back ta Tulsa and drop it off at your place. Oh, and don't talk till you get outta the city." We stared at him. "Well, you gonna get going, or what?"

Darry countered, "We should-"

"Shh," commanded Buck. "I said not to talk. Get in the damn car."

I gulped, and then stood up. Everyone else did the same, and as they all got into the car. Dallas was Buck's buddy, and he must have known that we were doing a better job at finding Dally than he was.

"Thank, you, Buck," Darry said hesitantly, starting the car. "You're really a-"

Merril shook his head, "No talking. Just driving. Good luck."

As we drove, we didn't speak to each other. I think we were all in shock. But this really did save our butts. Without Buck's help, we probably would have been in handcuffs by now.

**

* * *

**

**So Buck Merril saves the day. What an unlikely hero, huh? But any help is good help. Special thanks to TuffGreasers for giving me ideas on what car Buck should drive a long time ago back on the fifth of July (that's right, the morning after my night spend in solitary confinement, I'm on the computer writing about Buck Merril XD)!**

**Okay...a quick poll here. Who is your favorite Shepard brother? Curly or Tim? Maybe not just in this story, but in general. And I just wanna know if I'm taking their characters the right way, how you would expect them to act in these situations. A little criticism couldn't hurt, people. These are my two favorite characters (well, the order goes Curly, Two-Bit, Tim, but that still counts, right?) and I wanna get them right.**

**-Subway**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here's the second-to-last chapter. I'm sorry, but Dallas didn't have the time to put his two cents in today…**

**-Subway****

* * *

STEVE'S POV**

The airport, O'Hare, was huge. We got to the front desk and the lady that took our money was confused that we gave her five hundred-dollar bills to pay for the tickets. Compared to the clothes we were wearing, I don't think she expected us to have near enough to what we gave her. But she handed us the tickets without asking questions.

Darry reminded Tim, Curly, and I that the people that worked here wouldn't allow us to bring our blades on the plane.

"But…I've had this baby for five years now!" Tim complained, looking at his blade. I knew how bad he must have felt. With the little money that Tim had, it must have taken him a while to rummage up the cash to buy it. Then again, he could have stolen it.

Darry didn't seem to care. "Go toss it. Ponyboy, you better do a damn good job of hiding yours."

Taking a last-second glare at the youngest Curtis, Tim sulked over in the direction of the trash can, and the rest of us followed him. Once we reached the round, plastic bin, Curly tossed his blade into the trash like it was no big deal and then walked away. Tim and I, we just stood there. He held the switchblade in his hand and stared at it. "This is bullshit," he admitted.

I smiled, and wrapped my arm around him, pressing his depressed body against mine. "When we get back to Tulsa, I'll buy you a new one. I promise." I ruffed up his un-greased hair and then let go of him, tossing my blade into the trash.

He sighed, and then did the same. We stood there for a while, sharing a silent remorse as we stared at the switchblades that were just sitting there on top of the pile of trash.

I lightly punched Tim on the shoulder, and then said to him, "We should get going."

I turned around to walk towards the gang, but Shepard grabbed me by the shoulder and stopped me. I looked to see what he wanted, and he was looking down at the ground, looking dejected. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but he didn't say anything. I turned to face him, and he let go of me. He looked me in the eyes, and gulped. "Steve, I don't think things are going too well between us."

I stared at him. He was right. I looked at my feet, and then nodded.

"You're the most amazing person I've ever met, and I have to say, you've changed my life. But this relationship thing…it just ain't workin'." He smiled at me. It surprised me at how calm he was. "Buddy, this is probably the lamest thing I'll say in all my years, but you and Soda were pretty much made for each other. Don't let him slip away, you hear me?"

"Yeah," I said softly, not really knowing if I wanted to cry or hug him.

"We'll be okay," he shrugged, smiling.

"Yeah. I know." I hugged him, even though he really wasn't as into it as I was. I guess this was the perfect ending to the most imperfect relationship. It was the true definition of 'let's still be friends.' I was happy with the way he handled it.

"We should get going, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah." I nodded appreciatively at Tim. He flashed me a buttermilk smile, and, as I passed him, casually patted me on the back with his always-thorny touch. What he just did completely changed my opinion of him.

**PONYBOY'S POV**

On the morning of December 23rd, the plane landed pretty roughly. This, of course, woke me up. I slept as well as I usually did in next to Curly and his sweet scent, and I could already feel my mind racing. I shook Curly awake as I noticed everyone was getting up off the plane.

"So where do you think Dally is?" Steve asked as we walked to the rent-a-car center. "This city is even bigger than the one before. We've gotten extremely lucky, and you all know it. This is the final leg. We can't screw up."

Steve's sudden motivational skills surprised me, and even scared me a little. But, as always, he was right. And I knew where Dally was. "He has to be at my old house. I don't think there are any other options. That would be Dally's first place to look."

"Great," said Darry, walking into the building. "I'll go get a car for us. I'll pick you all up out front in a bit." I nodded and he disappeared through the front door.

I wondered what was going through Dally's mind. He had to be scared out of his mind that he hasn't found me yet. What if he was at my house right now and I wasn't there? He'd think that there was nothing to live for. He'd probably get killed. And I'd never be able to tell him that there was good in the world, like Johnny wanted me to tell him.

"Shotgun!" somebody suddenly burst out, and I heard that it was Soda. I looked up from my feet and saw that Darry arrived with the car, which was a beige clunker, but was large enough to fit us all. And it smelled a hell of a lot better than our Ford. I watched, amused, as Sodapop darted towards the passenger's seat.

Tim grabbed him by the collar and stopped him. "You wish. I have to give our chauffer here the directions." Tim said, hopping in the seat next to my brother.

Soda rolled his eyes and sat in the back seat. Tim was right, and he knew it. We all knew it.

During the drive, the mood changed dramatically. It was dead silent in the car, and there was a thick intensity looming in the air. Tim directed Darry through every left and right that he knew. When we pulled up to the apartment building that Dallas supposedly lived in, I swear that my heart was beating so loudly, everyone could hear it. After parking our car on the side of the road, we made our way into the building.

The apartment building was tall, grey, and dirty, just how I would have thought it to be. The inside was even more ghostly then the exterior. The man at the front desk gave us a small nod out of greeting. Seeing him, I was glad to know for sure that the building wasn't abandoned.

Tim led the way upstairs to Dally's fourth-story old house. The stairs were cement and dusty, and there was a small, matted rat sleeping on the top step that Two-Bit shooed away once we got there. Tim led us three doors to the left: Dally's old apartment. I pushed the door open, and, surprisingly, the door swung open with the force. For some reason, it wasn't locked.

The five of us stepped inside cautiously. I looked around, and everything was there, but just dirty and dusty. The shelves were caked with grime, and there were three rats hanging out on the top of the kitchen counter, nibbling on something. I stood there, thoroughly amazed, and then realized a piece of paper on the coffee table.

I tiptoed over to the table to pick up the note. And my heart sank to my toes once I realized who it was from.

**_"Dear reader:_**

**_ This letter is not for you. If you happen to know Darrel Curtis or anybody close to him, please give this to them. Do not read the rest of this. If you read the rest of this, you'll have a steep and painful price to pay. _**

**_Dear gang:_**

**_ Today is December 23rd. Around three in the morning. I doubt that you will ever receive this letter, and if you do, it will be a long time from now. But if you end up reading this, just gonna say that I'm sorry. It's been one hell of a ride, and all this time I've had something to live for, but now I just don't. Life just isn't the same anymore. _**

**_I didn't know where I was running to; I just knew I had to get away. The death of Johnny was eating away at me something terrible. It got so awful, and I missed himso bad that I just couldn't take it no more, and I had to go back to New York._**

**_I started in Topeka, Kansas, because I remember Buck saying there were a few good bars to hit while up there. I thought it would get my mind off of Johnny, but it really didn't. I went to St. Louis next, on my way to Decatur. I ran out of money for gas so I ended up robbing some ice cream place. Surprisingly, it got me tons of cash. In Decatur, I got into another fight, but there were no fists thrown, even though I came close. Chicago was hell, because I nearly got robbed by this little kid and his old man. I ended up teaching the kid what's what. I guess that there was something about me that attracted fights, because this asshole drunk named Andrew got me right upside the jaw. Of course, I didn't let that slide, and I got him right back. But he didn't take that to well. He and his buddies gave me a thorough beating and I had to go to the hospital for a few days. I had this weird feeling the whole time that you guys were following me, like trying to look for me or something. But, of course, that wasn't the case. And that stupid assumption that I made just makes me feel even worse. I drove to New York after that. And even though I went through all of this, I still don't feel any better about Johnnycake. I don't think that I'll ever get over it. _**

**_My life is over. I, literally, have nothing to live for. I have no family. My dad probably thinks that I'm dead. I have no job. So nobody would care if I disappear, huh?_**

**_Life is not good. I don't think I can take it much longer. It's eating away at me. Without Johnny, I don't see the purpose in living. _**

**_I really hope you guys get this note._**

**_- Dallas"_**

The note slipped from my hand and drifted onto the floor. Dally's dead. He killed himself. We were a split second too late.

I swore. I spit out an endless chain of cuss words; most of them were ones I've never used before, or at least not in front of Darry. Dallas was dead. I would never see him again. The most important person in the world to me right now was gone forever, and I couldn't stand it. If we came here a minute earlier, I could see him and he'd be okay.

I guess Dally said it right: life is not good.

I left. I knew the gang was following me in complete awe, but I didn't turn back to make sure. I sat in the car, in the front seat again, and next thing I knew, we were driving back to the airport.

Darry was trying to keep one eye on me and one on the road. "Ponyboy…I'm sorry…"

I couldn't look at him. "Don't be. It ain't your fault." It was my fault, and I knew it. I tried to get the thought out of my head, but I couldn't think of anything but Dally. I had a feeling it was going to be like this for a while. All my fears were coming true. This could be the trigger to my life spiraling downhill. Or maybe everything was going to get better after this. But I didn't care right then. I couldn't think. My mind was plagued.

Steve and Soda were sitting next to each other, staring at their feet. Curly was looking around worriedly at all of us, wishing that we would all cheer up, but he didn't say anything. Darry drove with his hands gripped on the wheel so tight, his knuckles were white. Two-Bit looked like shit, whether it's because that he was upset about Dallas or that his blade was still missing.

Tim looked like all of his emotions were dead. The fire in his eyes had burnt out. He looked exhausted, sad, and worried, all at once. Almost like he had his heart ripped out of his chest. I knew that he would feel the worst of it, for whatever reason.

In the car, we didn't talk to each other. Maybe nobody knew what to say, or maybe they just didn't want to say anything in front of me or Tim. Either way, I didn't care. Silence was golden.

I sat with Curly on the plane, and I was happy about it. He kept his mouth shut, maybe out of habit from an experience or two with Tim when he was in a similar mood. But if I wanted to talk to anybody right now, it was him. So I couldn't help it but to start conversation.

"I can't believe it, Curly," I said to him, "It all feels like the movies. I keep thinking that, if we left Tulsa one minute earlier, we would have caught up to Dally. And he wouldn't be dead." The truth of that statement hit me hard, and made me feel even worse.

"Aw, Pony, you don't know if he's dead or not," he comforted me, looking at me like I was a puppy. "Don't go jumping to conclusions."

I leaned my head on his shoulder just said what was on my mind. "Life isn't good," I said.

"Life is _great_," he countered straightforwardly, trying to cheer me up, but it wasn't working like it usually would have.

"No it's not!" I snapped, "The two most important people in the world are dead! My entire life is completely fucked."

Curly was petting my head now, but I didn't think he realized he was doing that. "It's going to be alright. It always turns out alright. And don't worry about Johnny. He died a hero, Ponyboy."

"Listen, I've never loved anybody more than I have Johnny. And he's gone, and I've never shared my feelings for him." That made my head spin. I've never told anybody about my feeling for Johnny, not even Sodapop. But I told Curly, and that was something that put me to attention at my feelings for _him_. I must have really trusted him. "I have nobody. I mean, you have Angela and even Tim. I have absolutely nobody."

"Well…_I_ love you," he said simply and confidently. I could almost feel him smiling.

"_What_?" I asked, completely dumbfounded.

"I said-"

"No," I cut him off, "I heard you; but _what_?" My heart was beating so hard I was sure Curly could hear it.

Curly spoke hesitantly, "I don't know if this is the right time to tell you this, but…" he swallowed audibly, and then spoke smoothly, "Since the day I met you, I've known that there was something special about you. And I've gotten to know you more and more, and you're just the most amazing person I've ever met. It got to the point where I could see you in every dream that I dreamt. And I didn't know what that meant, you know? So I just felt this weird urge to protect you like you're my kid or something. I try to keep you safe from Tim because I know you're scared of him, and I don't like to see you scared. There's this high that I get around you, Pony, and it's something that I crave. And I don't know what it is that I'm feeling." Curly paused. "Every single thing that you do makes me smile. Everything. When I get hurt or get in a fight with someone or if my brother yells at me, you always do something that makes me feel better and smile. There are…certain things about you that drive me crazy. I love the moment of truth in your lies. I love the way you make me drool. Even though I'm flat broke you make me feel like…like a million bucks." Curly laughed a little. "I could never tell Tim this; he'd probably kill me. He wouldn't understand…how I feel. Hell, I don't even understand. I've never felt this way before about anybody."

I could feel my mouth hung open, and I was glad Curly couldn't see that. I spoke slowly and shakily. "Curly…," I searched for words that were not there. "That's just…wow." This was utterly unbelievable to me.

If Curly liked me this much, how come he's never told me? And, more importantly, how could I not have known? The way he's always treated me should have given it away. The way he defended me from Andrew and James, the way he keeps me clear from Tim, the way he helps me fight in all of those rumbles, and just the way his eyes sparkle when he looks at me. Those things all should have given it away. All those moments I had with Curly. Curly was the most important person in my life. And I felt the same way about him.

As I realized this, my heart got caught in my throat. I thought that never after Johnny would I be able to have as strong of feelings for someone else. I thought I wouldn't be able to speak, but, softly, I managed. "I…can't give you as great of a speech as you gave me but I just want you to know that I feel the same. None of my friends know what I've been through like you do. I think that I was made for you." I paused, mustering up the strength to speak the next three words, those that I knew were strong words that you only say if you mean it. I meant it. So I said it. "I love you, Curly."

Curly was in some sort of state of awe, as if he wasn't expecting me to reply with that. He took a small, relieved breath, and then continued, "Wow." I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at him. His dazzling blue eyes were glowing crazy. He was thrilled.

I couldn't help it. I leaned over, and quickly kissed him on the cheek. I pulled away from him to see the look on his face, and he was all pink, and he was trying to hold back a smile, but he was unsuccessful. I gave him a sly 'did you like it' smile, even though I knew the answer was yes.

He scooted closer to me, and I rested my head against his broad chest. I lay there, listening to his strong heart, and I fell asleep to its beat.

* * *

**I know what you're feeling. You don't know whether to be sad that Dally died, or be happy for Ponyboy and Curly. It's hard, I know. I miss Dallas, too.  
And I know that this is slightly off-topic and you may not care, but I took Steve's character in a way I love to take all of my characters. Remember the previous chapter where Steve was sharing his thoughts to Two-Bit of he and Soda's relationship, and when Two-Bit kept saying 'yeah'? Well, in the chapter you just read, Steve was saying 'yeah' pretty often. I made him say that because of the contrast if brings from his thoughts and his actions. It develops his character pretty well. I guess I'm telling you this as a tip. It's a good direction to take a character you're portraying.  
**

**There's another chapter coming ASAP.**

**-Subway**


	12. Chapter 12

**The last chapter. Man, I wish Dallas were here…**

**-Subway****

* * *

PONYBOY'S POV**

When the plane landed in Tulsa, I didn't feel like waking up. My stomach flipped as soon as Dally entered my mind. I felt slightly better when I saw Curly on my shoulder, with that submissive dreamer's frown on his face as he slept. I would have woken him up by now, but I couldn't. He looked so peaceful. Knowing I was the reason for that was the only thing keeping me breathing. But unfortunately, I had to wake him up, because we were getting off the plane. He smiled once he saw me and I just had to smile back.

I guess life was pretty good. I had Curly with me now. Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit were still the best things in the entire world. Christmas was two days away. Even if Dally and Johnny were dead, I had a life to get back to.

We decided to walk home. It was really late and I our gang said they would spend the night at out house. The walk was long, windy, and cold, but I had Curly to keep me good company. I kept looking at Curly's hand, and it was just hanging there, with those spaces between his fingers that would fit mine just perfectly. I wouldn't sure if he would let me hold his hand, though. After thinking about it for a while, I ended up deciding that it didn't matter what Curly thought. This was a chance I was willing to take. I laced my fingers through Curly's, and looked up to see him all pink again and trying to hide a smile.

We walked and talked about a mile when Steve pulled me to the back of the group, saying that he wanted to talk to me.

"What's up, Steve?" I asked casually, looking him over. His hair was a total mess, with the usually strategically-placed curls now randomly sticking up in every direction. His smile was soft and trusting. His shirt had the two top buttons undone, and his pants - with holes ripped at the knees - were hanging loosely at his hips. He looked comfortable and humble: nothing like his normal self. Steve's green-grey eyes were inspirational. "Ponyboy, I…think I wanna marry Soda," he smiled as he talked, a classy skill Steve mastered the day he spoke his first words. "I'm thinking I'll buy a ring tomorrow morning."

I smiled hugely, more proud of Steve than I ever have been before. I couldn't help it but to wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. I never really liked Steve (he never seemed to like me, either) but right now, he was the best person in the whole world. "Steve!" I shrieked excitedly, "That's awesome, Steve!"

When I let go of him, I could see that he was smiling wide with some relief in his eyes. "You think so? I was talking to him on the plane, and I realized that he's just... the best thing in the whole world to me. And I love him," he shrugged shyly. "I just wanted to know if you thought that it was okay, you being his favorite brother and all. Do you think Soda'll say yes?"

"Of course he will; no doubt about it. He loves you, Steve. Maybe too much for his health." It was true. Steve and Soda were like a match made in heaven. I loved them both so much and I knew that they would be absolutely terrific together.

Suddenly, Soda jogged up to us. "Hey, guys, we're gonna go up that hill over there to the bathroom. You wanna come?"

"Sure," Steve said, smirking at me, "I'll race you," he challenged Soda, and they were off, leaving me alone at the bottom of the hill.

I walked up, and saw myself alone with Curly. He smiled nervously. I liked the way Curly was acting around me. It was cute. I walked over to him, smiling, and couldn't help it but wonder if he was going to ask me out.

"Curly?" I got his attention, trying not to smile. "Are we like…together now?" I think the way I asked that could have had a little more thought put into it, but I was too lazy to care.

"I don't know," Curly was visibly nervous although he was trying to be casual. "Are we?"

Curly wasn't good at this. But, of course, I was. "Well," I suggested, "You like me, don't you?"

"Yeah," he unsuccessfully held back a smile. "A whole lot."

"And I like you, too." I paused, waiting for him to say something, but he didn't. "So…are you going to ask me on a date?"

Though it was dark outside, I saw his cheeks flushing pink again. "Well…I…don't know how to."

I couldn't help it but to smile at him in amusement. "Repeat after me," I instructed. "Pony…"

"Pony…," he mimicked softly.

"I like you, and I would like to take you out sometime…" I paused, waiting for Curly to reiterate what I said.

Curly opened his mouth as if to speak, but he hesitated, and a nervous smile spread across his face. "I think you are the most amazing boy I have ever met, and saying 'I love you' can't even come _close_ to describing to you how I feel. I want you to be with me forever." He paused, still smiling uncertainly, like he was waiting for my approval. "Was that good?"

I looked Curly over, completely amazed. When I first met him, I would have thought him to be the smoothest talker in the world. He was so handsome, so he must have had a lot of practice. Until now, this was the only time I've ever seen him act like this around someone. Right now, he was so nervous; I could practically see him sweating. The coldness of the ice that was usually fixed into his blue eyes had melted. His lion-like smile was uneasy and submissive. I could see him breathing steadily, but the look on his face told me his heart was beating a mile per minute.

I nodded to him, approving his baffling statement, and then Curly breathed a small sigh of relief. I saw something in his eyes that gave me an urge to kiss him. And, this time, I couldn't overcome it.

I placed my lips onto Curly's. I was just brushing his, but went on full, not with tongue, just a passionate kiss. Thankfully, Curly returned the favor. I took my hand and placed his onto his head, kind of tugging at his hair a little. Sparks flew from my lips and my whole body tingled.

I pulled away from him just in time, because Soda, Steve, Darry, Tim, and Two-Bit appeared from behind the wall. Curly was breathing heavily, with his eyes wide. He was smiling the biggest and dumbest smile that I've ever seen on him before.

The gang must have caught a glimpse of what had just happened, because Two-Bit commented. "Well, it looks like have some extra-curricular activities going on back here," he snickered, and the others joined in. But I don't think Curly heard him because if he did, he probably would have beat Two-Bit's head in (or he would have gotten Tim to do it for him).

Curly was still looking at me in complete amazement, even though I turned to glare at the laughing gang. "You guys are _so_ immature," I scolded them, slipping out of Curly's strong embrace, and then making my way down the hill. I felt on top of the world.

Still laughing, they trotted to follow me, and I saw Soda slapping Curly on the back in approval. Steve messed up my hair and told me that I 'scored,' whatever in the world that meant. Two-Bit was overall amused by the whole situation, and he really couldn't stop laughing. Both Tim and Darry had a proud look on their face. Curly was still fazed from the kiss, even when we reached the house.

It was kind of weird to see my house again. I looked forward to having Dally with me the next time I saw it. The Ford was in the driveway, so that meant Buck didn't get caught.

It may have been kind of depressing that our journey of a lifetime had ended, but I looked forward to some classic chocolate cake in the morning.

**TIM'S POV**

The walk home was calm and comfortable. It was dark outside, with an infinite amount of stars in the sky and a cool breeze. My brother had his mind clouded with love, and I didn't know whether to be happy that he'd finally found someone or mad that he was unfocused. But I had Steve off of my ass (literally) and I was happy about that. I was so relaxed that I nearly forgot about Dallas. However, as soon as he entered my mind again, my stomach flopped and I suddenly didn't feel too good.

There was a red Ford in my driveway, kind of like the one Darrel had but in better shape. I figured it was Buck's, since he was saying he was going to buy a new car. Either way, the car put an even sicker feeling in my stomach. I wasn't in any mood for company.

There were no lights on in the house, except for one in the kitchen. It had to be at least midnight by now; mom and my stepdad had to be sleeping.

There was somebody unfamiliar at the kitchen counter, facing away from Curly and I. All we could really see was the back of his head. It wasn't Buck, because Buck's hair was short. And it wasn't Angela, because Angela's hair was long and dark. I reached for my blade but remembered that I threw it away in Chicago, and nearly swore to myself. When Curly shut the door, the man in the kitchen spun around at the noise and abruptly stood up from the chair he was sitting on.

The man stood there as we stared at each other in silence. The look on his face told me that he was completely exhausted, but in his icy blue eyes, I saw that he was eager for something. He had a full head of white-blonde hair that wasn't greased. He was wearing a black leather jacket with the cuffs of the sleeves folded up, blue jeans with holes in the knees, and a pair of brown cowboy boots.

He heart was in my throat.

It wasn't Dallas…he was dead…it wasn't possible to see him ever again…it _can't_ be Dally. But I recognized that gallant gleam in the man's eyes. It couldn't have belonged to anybody else. I broke out of my daze.

"You little shit!" I yelled, remembering to breathe, and I ran over to him and squeezed the daylights out of him, though it was against my nature. "You know we've been halfway across the country huntin' for you?"

He was hugging me tighter, I heard him fighting to keep back tears, and I heard the sobs racking against him as he spoke, "Tim…" he pulled away from me and at looked at me, with his blazing blue eyes filled with baffled tears. "Tim, I… I love-"

I put a finger to his lips, signaling for him to be quiet, and he obliged. "Shut up, Dallas," I smiled hugely at him. "I already know that." I shook my head, and I think I was crying but I'm not sure. He quickly started to hug me again. I smiled, pushed him away, and kissed him harder and more passionate than I ever had before. "You're…such an…asshole," I said between kisses.

"I know, baby. So are you."

* * *

**So that's our show. I absolutely LOVE Tim\Dally slash. It's my most favorite out of it all. Faltering on whether or not I'll do an epilogue…what do you all think? I'll make it Christmas!**

**-Subway**


	13. Epilogue

**Here you guys go! The epilogue (by popular demand)! I hope you all loved the story, or came close. I brought Dallas back (even though some of you already knew he wasn't dead...*cough TheNightimeSky *cough)!  
**

**Dally****: Zachary Dallas Wolf! I'd like to have a word with you about that!****  
Me****: Howdy, Dallas. How have you been? It's been a while since we last spoke.****  
Dally****: 'How have I been'? Are you freaking kidding me? Why did you kill off my character without telling me about it first?****  
Me****: I didn't kill off your character.****  
Dally****: Well…you sort of did!****  
Me****: Dallas, killing you and 'sort of' killing you are two different things. I could have killed off your character a long time ago, but I didn't. You wanna know why?****  
Dally****: Because you love me?****  
Me****: What? No! Because it has to be that way. And…because people got upset.****  
Dally****: I'm going to pretend I'm not angry about that last comment. Anyways, thanks for taking me back to Tim. [smiles] That made me awfully happy.****  
Me****: Don't mention it. Tim deserves a guy like you. You're both foul-mouthed and tuff. You're perfect for each other.****  
Dally****: [gasp] Oh, did you just say I was tuff? You DO love me! [gives me a hug]****  
Me****: Fuck you, Dally.****  
Dally****: No thanks. Hey, can you do me a favor?****  
Me****: Uh…sure?****  
Dally****: Can you have someone give me a massage in this chapter? I **_**really**_** need one. My back is killing me.****  
Me****: [rolls eyes]**

**Anyways…enjoy!**

**-Subway****

* * *

CURLY'S POV**

It was that dim, pre-dawn time, where the windows were just slightly tinged with light. I had been awake for a while now. I turned in the warm, comfy bed to look at Pony, who was still sleeping soundly. His cheeks were flushed with sleep and his brown-red hair rumpled. The covers were pulled up around his shoulders but I, peering down, could see one bare foot peeking out.

I watched Pony sleeping for a few more moments. The anticipation of starting our morning was almost more than I could bear, but it was perhaps the best part of all. Finally, able to wait no longer, I nestled down close to Pony under the covers and pressed a kiss to those warm, soft lips. "Wake up, Pone," I whispered. "It's Christmas."

He opened one eye halfway and looked at me. "Really? Today?" There was a hint of eagerness in his voice, which made me smile.

I was sure as hell in love with Ponyboy, and I knew that I should tell him sooner or later, but there was that rule etched into my brain from Tim: "relationships are huge weaknesses." Everything about Ponyboy was amazing, including the fact that I could stare into those eyes any time I wanted to. Pony even told me that my eyes were pretty and I had to deny that and say that they weren't as pretty as his. And then he would deny that and say, "no, my eyes are ugly, yours are the pretty ones" and that's the only fight we've had so far. Tim was cool with our relationship, so that made me more than happy. But there was an added bonus: Angela hated the fact that I was with Curtis, since she liked him too. And Angela's disapproval only made me want Ponyboy more and more.

I took a deep, contented breath. "Yep. Come on, Pone, I wanna see what I got." As he closed his eyes again, I shook the ever-stubborn Curtis and threatened, "Buddy, I'm gonna push you off of the bed if you even dare to go back to sleep."

"No," he replied, snuggling close to me, and smiling, said, "I'm still worn out from last night, Curly."

I pushed his hair back out of his face and cracked, "But I was on top." He swatted my hand away and smiled. "Come on, Curtis. Didn't Dallas say he was getting us something extra-special?" Dallas had arrived yesterday, the 24th, in the early morning hours. We all thought he was dead, and by the look on Tim's face, it damn looked like he saw a ghost. Immediately after he and Tim finished "doing their business so leave them alone, Curly," we went over to the Curtis house where that whole gang was staying and it was a huge hug fest. It was a really crazy moment and a crazy experience in general.

"He always says that," Pony countered, still stubborn. "And it's always the same thing: cigarettes. Oh, and didn't I tell you not to call me Curtis?"

I smiled, even though his eyes were closed and he couldn't see that. "Yes, you did." I pressed my lips up against his and he smiled in the middle of the kiss. "Pony. I'll have to get Darry in here to carry you into the living room. And I doubt you he wants to see you naked."

"Why don't _you_ carry me then?" He said drowsily with his eyes still closed, cocking an eyebrow like Two-Bit does. "You're strong enough. And besides, Darry's probably doing that with Two-Bit."

"I'm strong?" I blushed at the compliment. "Must be all that riding I'm doing lately." I paused, cracking a smirk. "At the rodeo _and_ in bed."

He smiled. "Shoot, that's the truth." Pony paused. "You're quite the charmer, ain't ya?"

I grinned my dumbest grin. "Who, me? Buddy, if I'm Prince Charming, then Tim is the Queen of England."

He smiled, and closed his eyes again. "Come on, Curly. You gotta be honest. You sweet talk like a cop and you know it."

I put my hand on his face and stroked his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked up at me innocently. My stomach tingled. "I love you," I told him finally. "Do you believe me?"

He laughed inwardly and tiredly. "I believe you. I love you, too, Curly Shepard. Merry Christmas."

**DARRY'S POV**

The remains of Christmas were everywhere. Wrapping paper lay in tatters. The tree glowed brightly in the corner. Dallas was sitting cross-legged between Tim's legs, busily sharpening the new blade that Tim had given him as Tim massaged Dally's back. Steve and Soda were outside, probably installing the new stereo into Steve's car that Soda (generously) bought for him. Curly and Pony were cuddled up on the couch, each drinking hot chocolate, and whispering sweet, holiday nothings into one another's ears.

I was just sitting on the floor in front of the couch, blissed out by the Christmas-ness of it all. I loved all the happiness that it brought, how happy everyone in the gang got during one day of the year. My brothers could never stop smiling, and it always felt that the pain of mom and dad just went away. It was just so amazing, how happy everybody in the whole world seemed to get on this specific day every year.

Suddenly, Two-Bit was there next to me. I turned, startled, and Two-Bit pressed his lips to mine, feeling warm and soft and close. I was surrounded by his unique scent and I sank into the kiss, leaning into him.

It was several moments before Two-Bit gently pulled away, leaving me breathless and slightly dizzy. "What…what was that for?"

Two-Bit, tinted pink, gestured for me to look up. "Mistletoe."

I looked up, and there was nothing there. "There's isn't any-"

I was abruptly interrupted by another long, ardent kiss. He pulled away after a bit, said "Made ya look," and then leaned back into it.

Two-Bit tasted like mint candy canes, hot chocolate, and marshmallows, and that made me laugh in the middle of the kiss. "Two-Bit, I thought that I told you not to eat the candy canes. You did, didn't you?"

"Shh," he commanded. "You talk _way _too much. Less yakking, and more kissing, hm?" His grey eyes were dancing happily.

I cocked an eyebrow in a failed attempt to impersonate my lover. "Look who's talking." His eyes sparkled at me. And, still blissed out at this perfect day, I kissed him again.

**SODA'S POV**

The sparks produced by the welding torch hit my safety goggles like raindrops on a window. I liked the sound that they made. They snapped and crackled and popped…like that cereal. Man, what's the name of that cereal? Whatever. You know what I mean.

I steadily traced the small, blue flame along the split in the hubcap until it closed together. I shut the torch off, set it aside, and then moved the goggles from my eyes to around my neck. I examined my finished product. Top notch, of course. I could feel the draft flowing in from underneath the garage door, and I looked down there to see that it was dark outside. I decided to go check up on Steve, since we should be closing up soon.

I squeezed out from under the garage, and my prediction was correct. The sky was darkening, and the moon was hanging up in the sky. I could see my breath out of the moonlight, and I saw that the ground was dusted in snow. So we had a white Christmas. It was kind of upsetting that Steve and I had to work tonight, it being Christmas and all, but I needed the money - I used a lot to buy Steve was car stereo that he loved so much. And Steve didn't want me to be working alone so he happily joined me for this shift.

I reached the garage Steve was working in, and saw that he had his back to me, with his head buried in the hood of a bright yellow Mustang. I tiptoed towards him so that he wouldn't hear me, and when I got over to him, I hugged him from behind and growled a lion-like growl.

He jumped, startled, and spun around in my grasp. He made a mad face at me, so I laughed, and kissed him on the forehead. That made him smile a little.

"Are you done yet, Stevie?" I whined, "We gotta start heading home. Darry's making turkey."

Steve smiled at me. "You _hate _turkey." That was true.

"Sure, but I need something to eat." I realized I hadn't eaten since lunch, which had to be at least eight or nine hours ago.

He looked me over, and then said with a cocky smirk, "Buddy, you got grease all over your face." Well, of course I did. It's almost impossible to work here and then walk away without that smelly black oil all over you. Man, you didn't even need to touch a car. It was just inevitable. Steve always had it everywhere, and he somehow managed to get it out of his clothes. I had Darry, who complained endlessly that, if I get a stain on my shirt ever again, that _I_ would have to wash it out, not him. But he always got them out for me anyways.

Steve had the grease pretty bad, enough so that it looked like he had a beard on the right side of his face. "I hope I don't got it as bad as you do, babe," I teased him, and he pouted, so I licked my thumb and wiped the grease off. He rolled his eyes as I did this, which made me laugh. He doesn't like when people treat him like a baby. I was amused to see how annoyed he was, so then I kissed him softly on the lips.

"I'm almost done," he said when I pulled away from him. "I'll finish faster if you help me out. There's something stuck in the lower chamber of the engine on this baby; can you fish it out for me? I just need to spray paint the front."

I didn't want to get away from him – our current closeness was exhilarating – but if my boyfriend needed help, I wanted to give it to him. I noticed that I was pinning Steve to the car with one arm on each side of him. I nodded, removing my arms, and he spun away, trotting to the back of the garage.

I immediately jammed three of my fingers into the lower chamber of the engine. I poked blindly around for a while and all I could really feel was thick oil lining the inside gears. I made a face at the smell, but then felt something unusual. It was something small, round, and cold, like a bolt or something like that. I tried to pick it up with my fingers but I dropped it. I slid the small, metallic band around my fourth finger and it fit just right so I was able to get my fingers out of the engine.

Once I pulled out, I slid it off my finger and rubbed it off on my shirt. It was a diamond ring. It was grimy, blackened, and wet, but it was still a diamond ring. I stared at it dumbly for a little bit, and then smiled. Steve would crack up at this.

"Hey, Stevie!" I called out to him, laughing a little. "Look at this, man!"

Steve set down the can of spray paint and walked over to me. I held it up to him, still smiling, and he gasped and shouted, "Let me see!" as he held his hand out, so I dropped the ring into the palm of his hand.

He laughed inwardly, and I turned around to get the towel from the hood of the car. Facing away from him and wiping my oil-stained hands on the once-white towel, I said to Steve, "Ain't the Socy owner of this car gonna be surprised to see that?" He didn't reply, so I turned around, to see what was up.

Steve was down on one knee, looking up at me with a chivalrous smile on his face, with one hand in his pocket, and with the other holding the ring out towards me with two fingers.

There was silence as I tried hard to comprehend what was going on. "Steve…," my voice trailed off in amazement. "Steve, you…" I couldn't grasp any words.

"Sode, I love you more than anything else in this whole world. More than cars, even." He smiled wider. "Will you marry me?" The look on his face told me he wasn't joking.

My tongue couldn't move. My lips were paralyzed. My mouth was hanging open. I blinked, and then, without really noticing, stammered, "B-but…it's not your ring…is it?"

Steve nodded quickly. "Of course it is, you big dummy!" He paused as this whole situation sunk in, sending me into an even deeper set of shock and awe. "So? Whattaya say?"

I blinked again. "Steve…of course, Steve!" I could feel my face getting all hot and I smiled, feeling tears in my eyes. "I love you, Steve."

He slowly exhaled in a childish relief, and slid the wiped-off ring onto my fourth finger. I stared at it as he stood up, and then took one look at my fiancé, and attacked his lips, my hands holding his face like he always likes me to do. He seemed taken by surprise, but I was an amazing kisser so he wasn't going to complain. He snaked his arms around me and pushed our hips against each other's. I slipped my tongue into his mouth and immediately felt his jeans get bigger at the zipper. Steve has always been one to get excited easily.

When he pulled away from me an eternity later, he said, out of breath, "So. Did ya think that was clever enough?"

I raised my eyebrows. "You sure had me fooled. Damn, Steve."

He was still holding onto me in that loose, affectionate grip he always puts around me whenever we kiss. "You happy?"

"Is that even a valid question? Of course I'm happy."

"Good," he nodded. "Because that was your Christmas present." He smiled. The glow of the light bulb on the ceiling was hitting his face in such a way that his teeth seemed to sparkle at me and his jet-black, curly locks had an angel-like glow to them that made him look extra handsome. "Come on, Sodapop. We should start heading home now."

With our dirty fingers laced through one another's, we slowly made our way down the moonlit, snow-dusted sidewalk.

* * *

**Yay! ****Steve and Soda are just SO cute together. That part with Curly and Pony is based off of something that happened in real life, between my boyfriend Garret and I. Certain people on here know what I'm talking about. I really don't have much to say, just that I'm REALLY happy with this story. Thanks for reading, and thanks to Dallas Winston for putting in his two cents.**

**Just a few shout-outs before I bring this story to a close...  
**

**TheNightimeSky: You're reviews were the best! Maybe it's because you're from New York, but you are the most...er...outspoken reviewer I've ever had. And you like Steve Randle! I'm just hoping you're one of the few that spell his last name correctly...*shudders at the word 'Randall'*  
spicygurl: You, my favorite slash writer on this whole website, come along and review my story! That's equivalent to "Goddess of Fiction Writers" S.E. Hinton reviewing (maybe a bit better). Your reviews help me out a LOT. Maybe it's because I look up to you the most (anybody from the Austin area is worthy to look up to...including myself).  
****  
Dally****: You're awfully welcome. My back feels much better. Thanks for the massage.****  
Me****: Any time, buddy.**

**Stay gold,****  
Subway**


End file.
